The Project Gutenberg EBook of Janice Meredith, by Paul

Leicester Ford
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Title: Janice Meredith

Author: Paul Leicester Ford

Release Date: May, 2004 [EBook #5719]

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[This file was first posted on August 14, 2002]

Edition: 10

Language: English

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, JANICE MEREDITH ***



Transcribed by Jeffrey Kraus-yao.

The Project Gutenberg EBook of Janice Meredith, by Paul Leicester Ford 1

 Ford
Leicester
MeredithPaul
Janice
Wallackâs
Theatre
100th Performance

Mary Mannering
as
Janice Meredith
I.
MeredithVolume
Janice
15th1901
February
Ford
Mr.
by
Books
The Honorable Peter Stirling
The Great K & A Train Robbery
The Story of an Untold Love
The True George Washington
Tattle-Tales of Cupid
The Many-Sided Franklin
The New England Primer

[Illustration: Janice Meredith (Miniature in color)]

Stirlingâ
Peter
Honorable
âThe
of
FordAuthor
Leicester
RevolutionbyPaul
theAmerican
of
Story
MeredithA
Janice
With a Miniature by Lillie V. OâRyan
and numerous Scenes from the Play

Mary Mannering Edition

To George W. Vanderbilt

My dear George:

Into the warp and woof of every book an author weaves much that even the subtlest readers cannot suspect,
far less discern. To them it is but a cross and pile of threads interlaced to form a pattern which may please or
displease their taste. But to the writer every filament has its own association: How each bit of silk or wool,
flax or tow, was laboriously gathered, or was blown to him; when each was spun by the wheel of his fancy
into yarns; the colour and tint his imagination gave to each skein; and where each was finally woven into the
fabric by the shuttle of his pen. No thread ever quite detaches itself from its growth and spinning, dyeing and
weaving, and each draws him back to hours and places seemingly unrelated to the work.

And so, as I have read the proofs of this book I have found more than once that the pages have faded out of
sight and in their stead I have seen Mount Pisgah and the French Broad River, or the ramp and terrace of
Biltmore House, just as I saw them when writing the words which served to recall them to me. With the
visions, too, has come a recurrence to our long talks, our work among the books, our games of chess, our cups
of tea, our walks, our rides, and our drives. It is therefore a pleasure to me that the book so naturally gravitates
to you, and that I may make it a remembrance of those past weeks of companionship, and an earnest of the
present affection of

PAUL LEICESTER FORD

ILLUSTRATIONS

Janice Meredith 2
Volume I.

• Janice Meredith (Miniature in color)

• ââT is sunrise at Greenwoodâ
• âNay, give me the churnâ
• âThe British ranâ
• âIt flatters theeâ
• âYou set me freeâ
• âThe prisoner is gone
• âHereâs to the prettiest damselâ
• âIâm the prisonerâ
• âTrenton is unguarded. Advanceâ
• âHeâd make a proper husbandâ
• âStay and take his place, Colonelâ
• âThou art my soldierâ
• ââT is to rescue thee, Janiceâ

Volume II.

• George Washington (In color)

• âThereâs no safety for theeâ
• âThe despatch!â
• âWho are you?â
• âArt comfortable, Janice?â
• âWhere is that paper?â
• âVictoryâ
• âWashington has crossed the Delaware!â
• âI love you for your honesty, Janiceâ
• âDonât move!â
• âHave I won?â
• âWhere are you going?â

Paul Leicester Ford 3

JANICE MEREDITH

A TALE OF THE REVOLUTION

VOLUME I

A HEROINE OF MANY POSSIBILITIES

âAlonzo now once more found himself upon an element that had twice proved destructive to
his happiness, but Neptune was propitious, and with gentle breezes wafted him toward his
haven of bliss, toward Amaryllis. Alas, when but one day from happiness, a Moorish zebecââ

âJanice!â called a voice.

The effect on the reader and her listener, both of whom were sitting on the floor, was instantaneous. Each
started and sat rigidly intent for a moment; then, as the sound of approaching footsteps became audible, one
girl hastily slipped a little volume under the counterpane of the bed, while the other sprang to her feet, and in a
hurried, flustered way pretended to be getting something out of a tall wardrobe.

Before the one who hid the book had time to rise, a woman of fifty entered the room, and after a glance,
criedâ

âJanice Meredith! How often have I told thee that it is ungenteel for a female to repose on the floor?â

âVery often, mommy,â said Janice, rising meekly, meantime casting a quick glance at the bed, to see how far
its smoothness had been disturbed.

âAnd still thee continues such unbecoming and vastly indelicate behaviour."

âOh, mommy, but it is so nice!â cried the girl. âDid nât you like to sit on the floor when you were fifteen?â

âJanice, thou ât more careless every day in bed-making,â ejaculated Mrs. Meredith, making a sudden dive
toward the bed, as if she desired to escape the question. She smoothed the gay patchwork quilt, seemed to feel
something underneath, and the next moment pulled out the hidden volume, which was bound, as the
booksellerâs advertisements phrased it, in âhalf calf, neat, marbled sides.â One stern glance she gave the two
red-faced culprits, and, opening the book, read out in a voice that was in itself an impeachment, âThe
Adventures of Alonzo and Amaryllis!â

There was an instantâs silence, full of omen to the culprits, and then Mrs. Meredithâs wrath found vent.

âJanice Meredith!â she cried. âOn a Sabbath morning, when thee shouldst be setting thy thoughts in a fit order
for church! And thou, Tabitha Drinker!â

âIt âs all my fault, Mrs. Meredith,â hurriedly asserted Tabitha. âI brought the book with me from Trenton, and
ât was I suggested that we go on reading this morning.â

âSix hours of spinet practice thou shalt have to-morrow, miss,â announced Mrs. Meredith to her daughter,
âand this afternoon thou shalt say over the whole catechism. As for thee, Tabitha, I shall feel it my duty to
write thy father of his daughterâs conduct. Now hurry and make ready for church.â And Mrs. Meredith started

JANICE MEREDITH 4
to leave the room.

âOh, mommy,â cried Janice, springing forward and laying a detaining hand on her motherâs arm in an
imploring manner, âpunish me as much as you please,âI know ât was very, very wicked,âbut donât take the
book away! He and Amaryllis were justââ

âNot another sight shalt thou have of it, miss. My daughter reading novels, indeed!â and Mrs. Meredith
departed, holding the evil book gingerly between her fingers, much as one might carry something that was
liable to soil oneâs hands.

The two girls looked at each other, Tabitha with a woebegone expression, and Janice with an odd one, which
might mean many things. The flushed cheeks were perhaps due to guilt, but the tightly clinched little fists
were certainly due to anger, and, noting these two only, one would have safely affirmed that Janice Meredith,
meekly as she had taken her motherâs scolding, had a quick and hot temper. But the eyes were fairly starry
with some emotion, certainly not anger, and though the lips were pressed tightly together, the feeling that had
set them so rigidly was but a passing one, for suddenly the corners twitched, the straight lines bent into
curves, and flinging herself upon the tall four-poster bedstead, Miss Meredith laughed as only fifteen can
laugh.

âOh, Tibbie, Tibbie,â she presently managed to articulate, âif you look like that I shall die,â and as the god of
Momus once more seized her, she dragged the quilt into a rumpled pile, and buried her face in it, as if indeed
attempting to suffocate herself.

âBut, Janice, to think that we shall never know how it ended! I could nât sleep last night for hours, because I
was so afraid that Amaryllis would nât have the opportunity to vindicate herself toâand ât would have been
finished in another day.â

âAnd a proper punishment for naughty Tibbie Drinker it is,â declared Miss Meredith, sitting up and assuming
a judicially severe manner. âWhat do you mean, miss, by tempting good little Janice Meredith into reading a
wicked romance on Sunday?â

ââGood little Janice!ââ cried Tibbie, contemptuously. âI could slap thee for that.â But instead she threw her
arms about Janiceâs neck and kissed her with such rapture and energy as to overbalance the judge from an
upright position, and the two roiled over upon the bed laughing with anything but discretion, considering the
nearness of their mentor. As a result a voice from a distance called sharplyâ

âJanice!â

âO gemini!â cried the owner of that name, springing off the bed and beginning to unfasten her gown,âan
example promptly followed by her room-mate.

âArt thou dressing, child?â called the voice, after a pause.

âYes, mommy,â answered Janice. Then she turned to her friend and asked, âShall I wear my light chintz and
kenton kerchief, or my purple and white striped Persian?â

âSufficiently smart for a country lass, Jan,â cried her friend.

âDonât call me country bred, Tibbie Drinker, just because you are a modish city girl.â

âAnd why not thy blue shalloon?â

A HEROINE OF MANY POSSIBILITIES 5

ââT is vastly unbecoming.â

âJanice Meredith! Canât thee let the men alone?â

âI will when they will,â airily laughed the girl.

âDo unto othersââ quoted Tabitha.

âThen I will when thee sets me an example,â retorted Janice, making a deep curtsey, the absence of drapery
and bodice revealing the straightness and suppleness of the slender rounded figure, which still had as much of
the child as of the woman in its lines.

âLittle thought they get from me,â cried Tabitha, with a toss of her head.

ââTell me where is fancy bred,

In the heart or in the head?ââ

hummed Janice. âOf course, one does nât think about men, Mistress Tabitha. One feels.â Which remark
showed perception of a feminine truth far in advance of Miss Meredithâs years.

âUnfeeling Janice!â

ââT is a good thing for the oafs and ploughboys of Brunswick. For there are none better.â

âPhilemon Hennion?â

ââYour servant, marms,ââ mimicked Janice, catching up a hair brush and taking it from her head as if it were
a hat, while making a bow with her feet widely spread. ââHaving nothing better ter do, Iâve made bold ter
come over ter drink a dish of tea with you.ââ The girl put the brush under her arm, still further spread her feet,
put her hands behind some pretended coat-tails, let the brush slip from under her arms, so that it fell to the
floor with a racket, stooped with an affectation of clumsiness which seemed impossible to the lithe figure,
while mumbling something inarticulate in an apparent paroxysm of embarrassment,âwhich quickly became a
genuine inability to speak from laughter.

âJanice, thee should turn actress.â

âOh, Tibbie, lace my bodice quickly, or I shall burst of laughing,â breathlessly begged the girl.

âJanice,â said her mother, entering, âhow often must I tell thee that giggling is missish? Stop, this moment.â

âYes, mommy,â gasped Janice. Then she added, after a shriek and a wriggle, âDonât, Tabitha!â

âWhat ails thee now, child? Art going to have an attack of the megrims?â

âWhen Tibbie laces me up she always tickles me, because she knows Iâm dreadfully ticklish.â

âI canât ever make the edges of the bodice meet, so I tickle to make her squirm,â explained Miss Drinker.

âGo on with thy own dressing, Tabitha,â ordered Mrs. Meredith, taking the strings from her hand. âNow
breathe out, Janice.â

A HEROINE OF MANY POSSIBILITIES 6

Miss Meredith drew a long breath, and then expelled it, instant advantage being taken by her mother to strain
the strings. âAgain,â she said, holding all that had been gained, and the operation was repeated, this time the
edges of the frock meeting across the back.

âIt hurts,â complained the owner of the waist, panting, while the upper part of her bust rose and fell rapidly in
an attempt to make up for the crushing of the lower lungs.

âI lose all patience with thee, Janice,â cried her mother. âHere when thou hast been given by Providence a
waist that would be the envy of any York woman, that thou shouldst object to clothes made to set it off to a
proper advantage.â

âIt hurts all the same,â reiterated Janice; âand last year I could beat Jacky Whitehead, but now when I try to
run in my new frocks I come nigh to dying of breathlessness.â

âI should hope so!â exclaimed her mother. âA female of fifteen run with a boy, indeed! The very idea is
indelicate. Now, as soon as thou hast put on thy slippers and goloe-shoes, go to thy father, who has been told
of thy misbehaviour, and who will reprove thee for it.â And with this last damper on the âlightness of young
people,â as Mrs. Meredith phrased it, she once more left the room. It is a regrettable fact that Miss Janice, who
had looked the picture of submission as her mother spoke, made a mouth, which was far from respectful, at
the departing figure.

âOh, Janice,â said Tabitha, âwill he be very severe?â

âSevere?â laughed Janice. âIf dear dadda is really angry, Iâll let tears come into my eyes, and then heâll say
heâs sorry he hurt my feelings, and kiss me; but if heâs only doing it to please mommy, Iâll let my eyes shine,
and then heâll laugh and tell me to kiss him. Oh, Tibbie, what a nice time we could have if women were only
as easy to manage as men!â With this parting regret, Miss Meredith sallied forth to receive the expected
reproof.

The lecture or kiss received,âand a sight of Miss Meredith would have led the casual observer to opine that the
latter was the form of punishment adopted,âthe two girls mounted into the big, lumbering coach along with
their elders, and were jolted and shaken over the four miles of ill-made road that separated Greenwood, the
âseat,â as the âNew York Gazetteâ termed it, of the Honourable Lambert Meredith, from the village of
Brunswick, New Jersey. Either this shaking, or something else, put the two maidens in a mood quite
unbefitting the day, for in the moment they tarried outside the church while the coach was being placed in the
shed, Miss Drinkerâs face was frowning, and once again Miss Meredithâs nails were dug deep into the little
palms of her hands.

âYes,â Janice whispered. âShe put it in the fire. Dadda saw her.â

âAnd weâll never know if Amaryllis explained that she had ever loved him,â groaned Tabitha.

âIf ever I get the chance!â remarked Janice, suggestively.

âOh, Jan!â cried Tabitha, ecstatically. âWould nât it be delightsome to be loved by a peasant, and to find he
was a prince and that he had disguised himself to test thy love?â

ââT would be better fun to know he was a prince and torture him by pretending you did nât care for him,â
replied Janice. âMen are so teasable.â

âThereâs Philemon Hennion doffing his hat to us, Jan.â

A HEROINE OF MANY POSSIBILITIES 7

âThe great big gawk!â exclaimed Janice. âDoes he want another dish of tea?â A question which set both girls
laughing.

âJanice! Tabitha!â rebuked Mrs. Meredith. âDonât be flippant on the Sabbath.â

The two faces assumed demureness, and, filing into the Presbyterian meeting-house, their owners apparently
gave strict heed to a sermon of the Rev. Alexander McClave, which was later issued from the press of Isaac
Collins, at Burlington, under the title of:â

âThe Doleful State of the Damned, Especially such as go to Hell from under the Gospel.â

II
THE PRINCE FROM OVER THE SEAS
Across the water sounded the bells of Christ Church as the anchor of the brig âBoscawen,â ninety days out
from Cork Harbour, fell with a splash into the Delaware River in the fifteenth year of the reign of George III.,
and of grace, 1774. To those on board, the chimes brought the first intimation that it was Sunday, for three
months at sea with nothing to mark one day from another deranges the calendar of all but the most heedful.
Among the uncouth and ill-garbed crowd that pressed against the waist-boards of the brig, looking with
curious eyes toward Philadelphia, several, as the sound of the bells was heard, might have been observed to
cross themselves, while one or two of the women began to tell their beads, praying perhaps that the breadth of
the just-crossed Atlantic lay between them and the privation and want which had forced emigration upon
them, but more likely giving thanks that the dangers and suffering of the voyage were over.

Scarcely had the anchor splashed, and before the circling ripples it started had spread a hundred feet, when a
small boat put off from one of the wharfs lining the water front of the city, with the newly arrived ship as an
evident destination; and the brig had barely swung to the current when the hoarse voice of the mate was heard
ordering the ladder over the side. The preparation to receive the boat drew the attention of the crowd, and they
stared at its occupants with an intentness which implied some deeper interest than mere curiosity; low words
were exchanged, and some of the poor frightened creatures seemed to take on a greater cringe.

[Illustration: ââT is sunrise at Greenwood.â]

Seated in the sternsheets of the approaching boat was a plainly dressed man, whose appearance so bespoke the
mercantile class that it hardly needed the doffing of the captainâs cap and his obsequious âyour servant, Mr.
Cauldwell, and good health to you,â as the man clambered on board, to announce the owner of the ship. To
the emigrants this sudden deference was a revelation concerning the cruel and oath-using tyrant at whose
mercy they had been during the weary weeks at sea.

âA long voyage yeâve made of it, Captain Caine,â said the merchant.

âAy, sir,â answered the captain. âAnother ten days would have put us short of water, andââ

âBut not of rum? Eh?â interrupted Cauldwell.

âAs for that,â replied the captain, âthere âs a bottle or two thatâs rolled itself till ât is cruelty not to drink it,
and if youâll test a noggin in the cabin while taking a look at the manifestsâ

âWell answered,â cried the merchant, adding, âI see ye set deep.â

II THE PRINCE FROM OVER THE SEAS 8

âAy,â said the captain as they went toward the companion-way; âtoo deep for speed or safety, but the factors
care little for sailorsâ lives.â

âAnd a deep ship makes a deep purse.â

âOr a deep grave.â

âWouldst die ashore, man?â

âGod forbid!â ejaculated the mariner, in a frightened voice. âIâve had my share of ill-luck without lying in the
cold ground. The very thought goes through me like a dash of spray in a winter vâyâge.â He stamped with his
foot and roared out, âForrard there: Two glasses and a dipper from the rundlet,â at the same time opening a
locker and taking therefrom a squat bottle. ââT is enough to make a man bowse himself kissing black Betty to
think of being under ground.â He held the black bottle firmly, as if it were in fact a sailorâs life preserver from
such a fate, and hastened, so soon as the cabin-boy appeared with the glasses and dipper, to mix two glasses of
rum and water. Setting these on the table, he took from the locker a bundle of papers, and handed it to the
merchant.

Twenty minutes were spent on the clearances and manifests, and then Mr. Cauldwell opened yet another
paper.

âSixty-two in all,â he said, with a certain satisfaction in his voice.

"Sixty-three," corrected the captain.

âNot by the list,â denied the merchant.

âSixty-two from Cork Harbour, but we took one aboard ship at Bristol,â explained the captain.

âYe must pack them close between decks.â

âAy. The shoats in the long boat had more room. Mr. Bull-dog would none of it, but slept on deck the whole
vâyâge.â

âMr. Bull-dog?â queried Cauldwell.

"The one your factor shipped at Bristol,â explained Caine, and running over the bundle, he spread before the
merchant the following paper:â

This Indenture, Made the Tenth Day of March in the fifteenth Year of the Reign of our
Sovereign Lord George the third King of Great Britain, etc. And in the Year of our Lord One
Thousand Seven Hundred and seventy-four, Between Charles Fownes of Bath in the County
of Somerset Labourer of the one Part, and Frederick Caine of Bristol Mariner of the other part
Witnesseth That the said Charles Fownes for the Consideration hereinafter mentioned, hath,
and by these Presents doth Covenant, Grant and Agree to, and with the said Frederick Caine,
his Executors, Administrators and Assigns, That the said Charles Fownes shall and will, as a
Faithful Covenant Servant well and truly serve said Frederick Caine his Executors,
Administrators or Assigns, in the Plantations of Pennsylvania and New Jersey beyond the
Seas, for the space of five years next ensuing the Arrival in the said Plantation, in the
Employment of a servant. And the said Charles Fownes doth hereby Covenant and declare
himself, now to be of the age of Twenty-one Years and no Covenant or Contract Servant to

II THE PRINCE FROM OVER THE SEAS 9

 any Person or Persons. And the said Frederick Caine for himself his Executors, and Assigns,
in Consideration thereof do hereby Covenant, Promise and Agree to and with the said Charles
Fownes his Executors and Administrators, that he the said Frederick Caine his Executors,
Administrators or Assigns, shall and will at his or their own proper Cost and Charges, with
what Convenient Speed they may, carry and convey or cause to be carried and conveyed over
unto the said Plantations, the said Charles Fownes and also during the said Term, shall and
will at the like Cost and Charges, provide and allow the said Charles Fownes all necessary
Cloaths, Meat, Drink, Washing, and Lodging, and Fitting and Convenient for him as
Covenant Servants in such Cases are usually provided for and allowed. And for the true
Performance of the Premises, the said Parties to these Presents, bind themselves their
Executors and Administrators, the either to the other, in the Penal Sum of Thirty Pounds
Sterling, by these Presents. In Witness whereof they have hereunto interchangeably set their
Hands and Seals, the Day and Year above written.

The mark of
Charles X Fownes [Seal].

Sealed and delivered in

the presence of
J. Pattison, C. Capon.

These are to certify that the above-named Charles Fownes came before me Thomas Pattison
Deputy to the Patentee at Bristol the Day and Year above written, and declared himself to be
no Covenant nor Contracted Servant to any Person or Persons, to be of the Age of
Twenty-one Years, not kidnapped nor enticed but desirous to serve the above-named or his
assigns five Years, according to the Tenor of his Indenture above written All of which is
Registered in the office for that Purpose appointed by the Letters Patents. In witness whereof
I have affixed the common Seal of the said office.

Thomas Pattison, D. P.

âAnd why Mr. Bull-dog?â asked Cauldwell, after a glance at the paper.

âBy the airs he takes. Oddâs life! if weâd had the Duke of Cumberland aboard, heâd not have carried himself
the stiffer. From the day we shipped him, not so much as a word has he passed with one of us, save to threat
Mr. Higginsâ life, when he knocked him down with a belaying pin for his daâfor his impertinence. And he
nothing but an indentured servant not able to write his name and like as not with a sheriff at his heels.â The
captainâs sudden volubility could mean either dislike or mere curiosity.

âDost think heâs of the wrong colour?â asked the merchant, looking with more interest at the covenant.

ââT is the devâât is beyond me to say what he is. A good man at the ropes, but a daâa Dutchman for company.
âTwixt he and the bog-trotters we shipped at Cork Harbour ât was the devâât was the scuttiest lot I ever took
aboard ship.â The rum was getting into the captainâs tongue, and making his usual vocabulary difficult to
keep under.

âHave ye no artisans among the Irish?â

âNot so much as one who knows the differ between his two hands.â

II THE PRINCE FROM OVER THE SEAS 10

ââT is too bad of Gorman not to pick better,â growled the merchant. âThereâs a great demand for Western
settlers, and Mr. Lambert Meredith writes me to pick him up a good man at horses and gardening, without
stinting the price. âT would be something to me to oblige him.â

âT is a parcel of raw teagues except for the Bristol man.â

âAnd ye think heâs of the light-fingered gentry?â

âAs for that,â said the captain, âI know nothing about him. But he came to your factor and wanted to take the
first ship that cleared, and seemed in such a mortal pother that Mr. Horsley suspicioned something, and gave
me a slant to look out for him. And all the time we lay off Bristol, my fine fellow kept himself well out of
sight.â

âCome,â said the merchant, rising, âweâll have a look at him. Mr. Meredith is not a man to be disappointed if
it can be avoided.â

Once on deck the captain led the way to the forepart of the ship, where, standing by himself, and, like the
other emigrants, looking over the rail, but, unlike them, looking not at the city, but at the water, stood a fellow
of a little over medium height, with broad shoulders and a well-shaped back, despite the ill form his ragged
coat tried to give it. At a slap on the shoulder he turned about, showing to the merchant a ruddy, sea-tanned
skin, light brown hair, gray eyes, and a chin and mouth hidden by a two monthsâ beard, still too bristly to give
him other than an unkempt, boorish look.

âHere âs the rogue,â announced the captain, with a suggestion of challenge in the speech, as if he would like
to have the epithet resented. But the man only regarded the officer with steady, inexpressive eyes.

âNow, my good fellow,â asked the merchant, âto what kind of work have ye been bred?â

The steady gray eyes were turned deliberately from the captain until the questioner was within their vision.
Then, after a momentâs scrutiny of his face, they were slowly dropped so as to take in the merchant from head
to foot. Finally they came back to the face again, and once more studied it with intentness, though apparently
without the slightest interest.

âCome,â said the merchant a little heatedly, and flushing at the manâs coolness. âAnswer me. Are ye used to
horses and gardening?â

As if he had not heard the question, the man turned, and resumed his staring at the water.

âNone of your damned impertinence!â roared the captain, catching up the free part of a halyard coiled on the
deck, âor I'll give you a taste of the ropeâs end.â

The young fellow faced about in sudden passion, which strangely altered him. âStrike me at your peril!â he
challenged, his arm drawn back, and fist clinched for a blow.

âNone but a jail-bird would be so afraid of telling about himself,â cried the captain, though ceasing to
threaten. âThe best thing you can do will be to turn the cursed son of a sea cook over to the authorities, Mr.
Cauldwell.â

âLook ye, my man,â warned the merchant, âye only bring suspicion on yourself by such conduct, and ye know
best how far ye want to have your past searched intoââ

II THE PRINCE FROM OVER THE SEAS 11

The man interrupted the merchant.

âAr bainât much usen to gardening, but ar knowsââ he hesitated for a moment and then went on, âbut ar bai
willinâ to work.â

âAy,â bawled the captain. âFear of the courts has made him find his tongue.â

âWell,â remarked the merchant, âât is not for my interest to look too closely at a man I have for sale.â Then,
as he walked away with the captain, he continued: âMany a convict or fugitive has come to the straightabout
out here, but hang me if I like his looks or his manner. However, Mr. Meredith knows the pot-luck of
redemptioners as well as I, and he can say nay if he chooses.â He stopped and eyed the group of emigrants
sourly, saying, âIâll let Gorman hear what I think of his shipment. He knows I donât want mere bog cattle.â

ââT is a poor consignment that canât be bettered in the advertisement,â comforted the captain, and apparently
he spoke truly, for in the âPennsylvania Gazetteâ of September 7th appeared the following:â

âJust arrived on board the brig âBoscawen,â Alexander Caine, Master from Ireland, a number
of likely, healthy, men and women Servants; among whom are Taylors, Barbers, Foiners,
Weavers, Shoemakers, Sewers, Labourers, etc., etc., whose indentures are to be disposed of
by Cauldwell & Wilson, or the master on board the Vessel off Market Street Wharffâ Said
Cauldwall & Wilson will give the highest prices for good Pot-Ashes and Bees-Wax.â

III
MISS MEREDITH DISCOVERS A VILLAIN
Breakfast at Greenwood was a pleasant meal at a pleasant hour. For some time previous to it, the family were
up and doing, Mr. Meredith riding over his farm directing his labourers, Mrs. Meredith giving a like
supervision to her housekeeping, and Janice, attired in a wash dress well covered by a vast apron, with the aid
of her guest, making the beds, tidying the parlour, and not unlikely mixing cake or some dessert in the
kitchen. Before the meal, Mr. Meredith replaced his rough riding coat by one of broadcloth, with lace ruffles,
while the working gowns of the ladies were discarded for others of silk, made, in the parlance of the time,
âsack fashion, or without waist, and termed âan elegant négligée,ââ this word being applied to any frock
without lacing strings.

Thus clothed, they gathered at seven oâclock in the pleasant, low-ceiled dining-room whose French windows,
facing westward, gave glimpses of the Raritan, over fields of stubble and corn-stacks, broken by patches of
timber and orchard. On the table stood a tea service of silver, slender in outline, and curiously light in weight,
though generous in capacity. Otherwise, a silver tankard for beer, standing at Mr. Meredithâs place beside a
stone jug filled with home brew, balanced by another jug filled with buttermilk, was all that tended to
decoration, the knives and forks being of steel, and the china simplicity itself. For the edibles, a couple of
smoked herring, a comb of honey, and a bunch of water-cress, re-enforced after the family had taken their
seals by a form of smoking cornbread, was the simple fare set forth. But the early rising, and two hours of
work, brought hunger to the table which required nothing more elaborate as a fillip to tempt the appetite.

While the family still lingered over the meal one warm September morning, as if loth to make further exertion
in the growing heat, the Sound of a knocker was heard, and a moment later the coloured maid returned and
announced:â

âMarse Hennion want see Marse Meredith.â

III MISS MEREDITH DISCOVERS A VILLAIN 12

âBring him in here, Peg,â said Mr. Meredith. âLike as not the lad âs not breakfasted.â

Janice hunched her shoulders and remarked, âNever fear that Master Hennion is not hungry. He is like the
roaring lion, who âwalketh about seeking whom he may devour.ââ

âBlack shame on thee, Janice Meredith, for applying the Holy Word to carnal things,â cried her mother.

âThen let me read novels,â muttered Miss Meredith, but so indistinctly as not to be understood.

âBe still, child!â commanded her mother.

âAnd listen to Philemon glub-glub-bing over his victuals?â

âPhilemon is no pig,â declared Mrs. Meredith.

âNo,â assented Janice. âHe âs too old for that,ââa remark which set Mr. Meredith off into an uproarious
haw-haw.

âLambert,â protested his wife, âI lose patience with thee for encouraging this stiff-necked and wayward girl,
when she should be thankful that Providence has made one man who wants so saucy a Miss Prat-a-pace for a
wife.â

Miss Meredith, evidently encouraged by her fatherâs humour, made a mouth, and droned in a sing-song voice:
ââWhat doth every sin deserve? Every sin deserveth Godâs wrath and curse, both in this life and that which is
to come.ââ Such a desecration of the Westminster Assembly of Divinesâ âShorter Catechismâ would
doubtless have produced further and severer reproof from Mrs. Meredith, but the censure was prevented by
the clump of heavy boots, followed by the entrance of an over-tall, loosely-built fellow of about eighteen
years, whose clothes rather hung about than fitted him.

âYour servant, marms,â was his greeting, as he struggled to make a bow. âYour servant, squire. Mr. Hitchins,
down ter Trenton, where I went yestereâen with a bale of shearings, asked me ter come araound your way
with a letter anâ a bond-servant that come ter him on a hay-sloop from Philadelphia. Soââ

âHaving nothing better to do, you came?â interrupted Janice, with a gravely courteous manner.

âThat âs it, Miss Janice; Iâm obleeged ter you for sayinâ it better nor I could,â said the young fellow,
gratefully, while manifestly straining to get a letter from his pocket.

âHast breakfasted, Phil?â asked the squire.

Producing the letter with terrible effort, and handing it to Mr. Meredith, Hennion began, âAs for thatââ

Here Janice interrupted by saying, âYou breakfasted in Trentonâwhat a pity!â

âJanice!â snapped her mother, warningly. âCease thy clack and set a chair for Philemon this instant.â

That individual tried to help the girl, but he was not quick enough, except to get awkwardly in the way, and
bring his shins in sharp contact with the edge of the chair. Uttering an exclamation of pain, he dropped his
hat,âa proceeding which set the two girls off into ill-suppressed giggles. But finally, relieved of his tormenting
head-gear, he was safely seated, and Janice set the dishes in front of him, from all of which he helped himself
liberally. Meanwhile, the squire broke the seal of the letter and began to read it.

III MISS MEREDITH DISCOVERS A VILLAIN 13

âWilt have tea or home brew?â asked Mrs. Meredith.

âBeer for me, marm, thank you. Anâ I think it only kindly ter say I've hearn talk concerninâ your tea
drinkinâ.â

âLet âem talk,â muttered the squire, angrily, looking up from the letter. ââT is nothing to me.â

âBut Joe Bagby says there âs a scheme ter git the committee of Brunswick township ter take it up.â

âNot they,â fumed Mr. Meredith. ââT is one thing to write anonymous letters, but quite another matter to
stand up and be counted. As for that scamp Joeââ

âAnonymous letters?â questioned Philemon.

âAy,â sputtered the squire, taking from his pocket a paper which he at once crushed into a ball, and then as
promptly smoothed out again as a preliminary to handing it to the youth. With difficulty, for the writing was
bad, and the paper old and dirty, Philemon read out the following:â

Mister Muridith,â

Noing that agenst the centyments of younited Amurika you still kontiyou to youse tea,
thairfor, this is to worn you that we konsider you as an enemy of our kuntry, and if the same
praktises are kontinyoud, you will shortly receeve a visit from the kommitty of

Tar And Fethers,

Brunswick Township.

âThe villains!â cried Janice, flushing. âWho can have dared to send it?â

âOne of my tenants, like as not,â snapped the squire.

âThey âd never dare,â asserted Janice.

âDare!â cried the squire. âWhat daring does it take to write unsigned threats and nail âem at night on a door?
They get more lawless every day, with their committees and town meetings and mobs. âT is next to
impossible to make âem pay their rents now, and to hear âem talk yeâd conclude that they owned their farms
and could not be turned off. A pretty state of things when a man with twenty thousand acres under leaseholds
has to beg for his rentals, and then does nât get âem.â

âYou âd find it easier ter git your rents, squire, if you only sided more with folks, anâ waânât so stiff,â
suggested the youth. âA little yieldinâ now anâ thenââ

âNever!â roared Mr. Meredith. âI'll have no Committee of Correspondence, nor Sons of Liberty, nor Town
Meeting telling me what I may do or not do at Greenwood, any more than I let the ragtag and bobtail tell me
what I was to buy in â69. Till I say nay, tea is drunk at Greenwood,â and the squireâs fist came down on the
table with a bang.

âFolks say that Congress will shut up the ports,â said the young man.

âAy. And British frigates will open âem. The people are mad, sir, Bedlam mad, with the idea of liberty, as
they call it. Liberty, indeed! when they try to say what a man shall do in his own house; what he shall eat;

III MISS MEREDITH DISCOVERS A VILLAIN 14

what he shall wear. And this Congress! We, A and B, elect C to say what the rest of the alphabet shall do,
under penalty of tar and feathers, burned ricks, orâdonât talk to me, sir, of a Congress. âT is but an attempt of
the mobility to override the nobility of this land, sir. Once again the plates rattled on the table from the
squireâs fist, and it became evident that if Miss Meredith had a temper it came by inheritance.

âNow, Lambert,â interposed his wife, âstop banging the table and getting hot about nothing. Remember how
thee hadst the colonies ruined in Stamp Act times, and again during the Association, and it all went over, just
as this will. Pour thy father another tankard of small beer, Janice.â

Clearly, what the Committee of Correspondence, and even the approaching Congress could not do, Mrs.
Meredith could, for the squire settled back quietly into his chair, took a long swallow of beer, and resumed his
letter.

âWhat does Mr. Cauldwell say, dadda?â inquired the daughter.

âHmm,â said Mr. Meredith. âThat he sends me the likeliest one from his last shipment. What sort of fellow is
he, Phil?â

Hennion paused to swallow an over-large mouthful, which almost produced a choking fit, before he could
reply. âHe hanât a civil word about him, squireâa regular sullen dog.â

âCauldwell writes guardedly, saying it was the best he could do. Where dâ ye leave him, lad?â

âOutside, in my waggon.â

âPeg, bid him to come in. Weâll have a look atââ Mr. Meredith consulted the covenant enclosed and read,
âCharles Fownes heigh?â

A moment later, preceded by the maid, Fownes entered. He took a quick, almost furtive, survey of the room,
then glanced in succession at each of those seated about the table, till his eyes rested on Janice. There they
fixed themselves in a bold, unconcealed scrutiny, to the no small embarrassment of the maiden, though the
man himself stood in an easy, unconstrained attitude, quite unheeding the five pairs of eyes staring at him, or,
if conscious, entirely unembarrassed by them.

âWell, Charles, Mr. Cauldwell writes me that ye donât know much about horses or gardening, but he thinks ye
have parts and can pick it up quickly.â

Still keeping his eyes on Miss Meredith, Fownes nodded his head, with a short, quick jerk, far from respectful.

âBut he also says ye are a surly, hot-tempered fellow, who may need a touch of a whip now and again."

Without turning his head, a second time the man gave a jerk of it, conveying an idea of assent, but it was the
assent of contempt far more than of accord.

âCome, come,â ordered the squire, testily. âLet âs have a sound of your tongue. Is Mr. Cauldwell right?â

Still looking at Miss Meredith, the man shrugged his shoulders, and replied, âBainât vor the bikes of ar to zay
Mister Cauldwell bai a liar.â Yet the voice and manner left little doubt in the hearers as to the speakerâs
private opinion, and Janice laughed, partly at the implication, but more in nervousness.

âWhat kind of work are ye used to?â asked Mr. Meredith.

III MISS MEREDITH DISCOVERS A VILLAIN 15

The man hesitated for a moment and then muttered crossly, âAr indentured vor to work, not to bai
questioned.â

âThen work ye shall have,â cried the squire, hotly. âPeg, show him the stable, and tell Tomââ

âOne moment, Lambert,â interjected his wife, and then she asked, âHast thou had breakfast, Charles?â

Fownes shook his head sullenly.

âTake him to the kitchen and give him some at once, Peg,â ordered Mrs. Meredith.

For the first time the fellow looked away from Janice, fixing his eyes on Mrs. Meredith. Then he bowed easily
and gracefully, saying, âThank you.â Apparently unconscious that for a moment he had left the Somerset burr
off his tongue and the rustic pretence from his manner, he followed Peg to the kitchen.

If he were unconscious of the slip, it was more than were his auditors, and for a moment they all exchanged
glances in silent bewilderment.

âHumph!â finally growled the squire. âI like the look of him still less.â

âHe holds himself like a gentleman,â asserted Tabitha.

âThis fellow will need close watching,â predicted Mr. Meredith. âHe âs no yokel. He moves like a gentleman
or a house-servant. Yet he had to make his mark on the covenant.â

âI think, dadda,â said Miss Meredith, in her most calmly judicial manner, âthat the new man is a born villain,
and has committed some terrible crime. He has a horrid, wicked face, and he stares just asâasâso that one
wants to shiver.â

Mrs. Meredith rose. âJanice,â she chided, âthou ât too young to make thy opinions of the slightest value. Go
to thy spinet, child, and donât let me hear any more such foolish babble. Charles has a good face, and will
make a good servant.â

âI donât care what mommy thinks,â Miss Meredith confided to Tabitha in the parlour, as the one took her seat
at an embroidery frame and the other at the spinet. âI know heâs a bad man, and will end by killing one of us
and stealing the silver and a horse, just as Mr. Vreelandâs bond-servant did. He makes me think of the villain
in âThe Tragic History of Sir Watkins Stokes and Lady Betty Artless.ââ

IV
AN APPLE OF DISCORD
In the week following his advent the new servant was the cause of considerable discussion, and, regrettably,
of not a little controversy, among the members of the household of Greenwood. The squire maintained that
âthe fellow is a bad-tempered, lazy, deceitful rogue, in need of much watching.â Mrs. Meredith, on the
contrary, invariably praised the man, and promptly suppressed her husband whenever he began to rail against
him. To Janice, with the violent prejudices of youth still unmodified by experience and reason, Charles was
almost a special deputy of the individual she heard so unmercifully thrashed to tatters each Sunday by the
Rev. Mr. McClave. And again, to the contrary, Tabitha insisted with growing fervour that the servant was a
gentleman, possessed of all the qualities that word implied, plus the most desirable attribute of all others to
eighteenth-century maidens, a romantic possibility.

IV AN APPLE OF DISCORD 16
As a matter of fact, these diverse and contradictory views had a crossing-point, and accepting this as their
mean, Charles proved himself to be a knowing man with horses, an entirely ignorant and by no means eager
labourer in the little farm work there was to do, a silent though easily angered being with every one save Mrs.
Meredith, and so clearly above his station that he was viewed with disfavour, tinctured by not a little fear, by
house-servants, by field hands, and even by Mr. Meredithâs overseer.

[Illustration: âNay, give me the churn.â]

For the most part, Fownes spoke in the West of England dialect; but whenever he became interested, this
instantly slipped from him, as did his still more ineffective attempt to move and act the rustic. Indeed, the ease
of his movements and the straightness of his carriage, with a certain indefinable precision of manner, led to a
common agreement among his fellow-labourers that he had earlier in life accepted the kingâs shilling.
Granting him to be but one and twenty years of age, as his covenant stated, and as in fact he looked, his
service must have been shorter than the act of Parliament allowed, and this seeming bar to their hypothesis
caused many winks and shrugs over the tankards of ale consumed of an evening at the King George tavern in
the village of Brunswick. Furthermore, for some months the deserter columns of such stray numbers of the
âLondon Gazetteâ as occasionally drifted to the ordinary were eagerly scanned by the loungers, on the
possibility that they might contain some advertisement of a fellow standing five feet ten, with broad
shoulders, light brown hair, straight nose, and gray eyes, whose whereabout was of interest to His Majestyâs
War Office, Whitehall. Neither from this source, however, nor from any other, did they gain the slightest clue
to the past history of the bond-servant, spy upon the fellow who would.

Nor was talk of the man limited to farm hands and tavern idlers, for dearth of new topics in the little
community made him a subject of converse to the two girls during the hours of spinet practice, embroidery,
and sewing, which were their daily occupations between breakfast and dinner, and, even extended into the
afternoon, if the stint was not completed. Yet all their discussion brought them no nearer to agreement, Janice
maintaining that Fownes was a villain in posse, if not in esse, while Tabitha contended that Charles had been
disappointed in a love which he still, none the less, cherished, and which to her mind accounted in every
particular for his conduct. As such a theory allowed considerable scope to the imagination, she promptly
created several romances about him, in all of which he was of noble birth, with such other desirable factors as
made him a true hero; and having thus endowed him with a halo of romance, she could not find words strong
enough to express her thorough-going contempt for the woman whose disregard and cruelty had driven him
across the seas.

âThee knows, Janice,â she argued, when the latter expressed scepticism, âthat the Earl of Anglesey was
kidnapped, and sold in Maryland, so it âs perfectly possible for a nobleman to be a bond-servant.â

âThat âs the one case,â answered Janice, sagely.

âBut things like it are very common in novels,â insisted Tabitha. âAnd what is more likely for a man
disappointed in love than, in desperation, to indenture himself?â

âI can easily credit a female of tasteâyes, any femaleâ refusing the ill-mannered, bold-staring rogue,â said
Janice, giving the coarse osnaburg shirt she was working upon a fretted jerk; âbut to suppose him to be
capable of a grand, devoted passion is as bad as expectingâexpecting faithfulness in a dog like Clarion.â

âClarion?â questioned Tabitha.

âYes. Have nât you seen howâhowâthat heâthe man, has taken possession of him? Thomas says the two sneak
off together every chance they get, and sometimes are nât back till eleven or twelve. I wish dadda would put a
stop to it. Like as not, ât is for pilfering they are bound.â Miss Meredith began anew on the buttonhole, and

IV AN APPLE OF DISCORD 17
had she been thrusting her needle into either man or dog, she could not have sewed with a more vicious
vigour.

âThat must be the way he got those rabbits for thy mother.â

âI should know he had been a poacher,â asserted Janice, as she contemptuously held up and surveyed at
arms-length the completed shirt. Then she laid it aside with another, and sighed a weary, âHeigh-ho, those are
done. Here I have to work my fingers to the bone making shirts for him, just because mommy says he has nât
enough clothes,ââa sentence which perhaps partly accounted for the maidenâs somewhat jaundiced view of
Charles.

âAre those for him?â cried Tabitha. âWhy didst thou not tell me? I would have helped thee with them.â

âYou âd have been welcome to the whole job. As it is, Iâve done them so carelessly that I know mommy will
scold me. But I wasnât going to work myself to death for him!â

âI should have lovedâI like shirt-making,â fibbed Tabitha.

âAnd I hate it! Forty-two have I made this year, and mommy has six more cut out.â

There was a momentâs silence, and then Tabitha said, âJanice.â For some reason the name seemed to
embarrass her, for the moment it was spoken she coloured.

âWhat?â

âDost thee not thinkâperhapsâif we steal out and take the shirts to the stable, thy mother will neverâ?â

âTibbie Drinker! Go out of the house in a sack? Iâd as soon go out in my night-rail.â

âThee breakfasts in a négligée, even when Philemon is here,â retorted Miss Drinker. âWouldst as lief
breakfast in thy shift?â

âNo,â said Miss Janice, with a wicked sparkle in her eyes, âbecause if I did Philemon would come oftener
than ever.â

âFie upon thee, Janice Meredith!â cried her friend, âfor a froward, indelicate female.â

âAnd why more indelicate than the men whoâd come?â demanded Janice.

ââImmodest words admit of no defence,

For want of modesty is want of sense,ââ

quoted Miss Drinker.

âRubbish!â scoffed Janice, but whether she was referring to the stanza of the reigning poet of the eighteenth
century, or simply to Miss Tabithaâs application of it, cannot be definitely known. âYou know as well as I,
Tibbie, that Iâd rather have Philemon, or any other man, see me in my shroud than in my rail. Come, weâll
change our frocks and take a walk.â

A half hour later, newly clothed in light dimity gowns, cut short for walking, and which, in combination with
slippers, then the invariable footgear of ladies of quality, served to display the âneatly turned anklesâ that the

IV AN APPLE OF DISCORD 18
beaux of the period so greatly admired, the girls sallied forth. First a visit was paid to the stable, to smuggle
the shirts from the criticism of Mrs. Meredith, as well as to entice Clarionâs companionship for the walk. But
Thomas, with a grumble, told them that Fownes had stolen away from the job that had been set for him after
dinner, and that the hound had gone with him.

Their rambling walk brought the girls presently to the river, but just as they were about to force their way
through the fringe of willows and underbrush which hid the water from view, a sudden loud splashing, telling
of some one in swimming, gave them pause. Yelps of excitement from Clarion a moment later served to tell
the two who it probably was, and the probability was instantly confirmed by the voice of Charles, saying:

ââT is sport, old man, is ât not? To get the dirt and transpiration off one! âS death! What a climate! âTwixt the
sun and osnaburg and fustian my skin feels as if Iâd been triced up and had a round hundred.â

Exchanging glances, the girls stole softly away from the bank, neither venturing to speak till out of hearing.
As they retired they came upon a heap of coarse garments, and Tabitha, catching the arm of her friend,
exclaimed:â

âOh, Jan, look!â

What had caught her eye was the end of a light gold chain that appeared among the clothes, and both girls
halted and gazed at it as if it possessed some quality of fascination. Then Tabitha tip-toed forward, with but
too obvious a purpose.

âTibbie!â rebuked Janice, âyou shouldnât!â

âOh, but Jan!â protested Eve, junior. ââT is such a chance!â

âNot for me,â asserted Miss Meredith, proudly virtuous, as she walked on.

If Miss Drinker had searched for a twelve-month she could scarce have found a more provoking remark than
her spontaneous exclamation, âOh! how beautiful she is!â

Janice halted, though she had the moral stamina not to turn.

âWhat? The chain?â she asked.

âNo! The miniature,â responded her interlocutor, in a tone expressing the most unbounded admiration and
delight. âSuch an elegant creature, Jan, and suchââ

Her speech ended there, as a crashing in the bushes alarmed her, and she darted past Janice, who, infected by
the guilt of her companion, likewise broke into a run, which neither ceased till they had covered a goodly
distance. Then Tabitha, for want of breath, came to a stop, and allowed her friend to overtake her.

She held up the chain and miniature in her hand. âWhat shall I do?â she panted.

âTibbie, how could you?â ejaculated her horrified friend.

âHis coming frighted me so thatâoh, I didnât drop it!â

âYou must take it back!â

IV AN APPLE OF DISCORD 19
âIâd never dare!â

âBlack shame onâ!â

âA nice creature, thou, Jan!â interrupted Miss Drinker, with a sudden carrying of the war into the enemyâs
camp. âTo tell me to go back when heâs sure to be dressing! No wonder thee makes indelicate speeches.â

Miss Meredith, without deigning to reply to this shameful implication, walked away toward the house.

That Tibbie intended to shirk the consequences of her misdemeanour was only too clearly proved to Janice,
when later she went to her room to prink for supper, for lying on her dressing stand was the miniature.
Shocked as Miss Meredith was at the sight, she lifted and examined the trinket.

Bred in colonial simplicity, it seemed to the maid that she had never seen anything quite so exquisite. A gold
case, richly set with brilliants, encompassed the portrait of a girl of very positive beauty. After a rapt dwelling
on the portrait for some minutes, further examination revealed the letters W. H. J. B. interlaced on the back.

Taking the miniature when her toilet had been perfected, Janice descended to the parlour. As she entered,
Tabitha, already there, jumped up from a chair, in which, a moment previous she had been carrying on a
brown study that apparently was not enjoyable, and tripped nonchalantly across the room to the spinet.
Seating herself, she struck the keys, and broke out into a song entitled, âTaste Lifeâs Glad Moments as They
Glide.â

Not in the least deflected from her intention, Miss Meredith marched up to the culprit, the bondsmanâs
property in her hand, and demanded, âDost intend to turn thief?â

âPrithee, who âs curious now?â evaded Tibbie. âI knew thee âd look at it, for all thy airs.â

âVery well, miss,â threatened Janice, with much dignity. âThen I shall take it to him, and narrate to him all the
circumstances.â

âTattle-tale, tattle-tale!â retorted Tabitha, scornfully.

With even greater scorn her friend turned her back, and leaving the house, walked toward the stable. This took
her through the old-fashioned, hedge-begirt kitchen garden, in which flowers were grown as if they were
vegetables, and vegetables were grown as if they were flowers. The moment Janice had passed within the tall
row of box, her expression of mingled haughtiness and determination ended; she came to a sudden halt, said
âOh!â and then pretended to be greatly interested in a butterfly. The bravest army can be stampeded by a
surprise, and after having screwed up her spirit to the point of facing Fownes in his fortress, the stable, Miss
Meredithâs courage deserted her on almost stumbling over him a hundred yards nearer than she expected. So
taken aback was she that all the glib explanation she had planned was forgotten, and she held out the
miniature to him without a single word.

Charles had been walking to the house, and only paused at meeting Miss Meredith. He glanced at the
outstretched hand, and then let his eyes come back to the girlâs face, without making the slightest motion to
take his property.

Tongue-tied and doubly embarrassed by his calm scrutiny, the young lady stood with flushed cheeks, and with
long black lashes dropped to hide a pair of very shamed eyes, the personification, in appearance, of guilt.

IV AN APPLE OF DISCORD 20
Whether the girl would have found her tongue, or would have ended the incident as she was longing to do by
taking to her heels, it is impossible to say. Ere she had time to do either, the angry voice of the squire broke in
upon them.

âHo, there ye are! Twice have I looked for ye this afternoon, and I warn ye Iâm not the man to take such
conduct from any one, least of all from one of my own servants,â he said as he came toward the pair, the
emphasis of his walking stick and his heels both telling the story of his anger. âWhat mean ye, fellow,â he
continued, âby neglecting the work I set ye?â

Absolutely unmoved by the reproof, Charles stood as heedless of it as he had been of the outstretched hand of
the daughter, a hand which had promptly disappeared in the folds of Miss Meredithâs skirt at the first sound of
her father's voice.

âA taste of my walking stick ye should have if ye had your deserts!â went on the squire, now face to face with
the servant.

Without taking his eyes from the girl, Charles laughed. âIs it fear of me,â he challenged, âor fear of the law
that prevents you?â

âWhat know ye of the law, sirrah?â demanded Mr. Meredith.

âNothing, when I was fool enough to indenture myself,â snapped the servant; âbut Bagby tells me that ât is
forbidden, under penalty of fine, for a master to strike a servant.â

âJoe Bagby!â roared the squire, more angry than ever. âAnd how come ye to have anything to do with that
scampy lawyer! Hast been up to some mischief already?â

Again the man laughed. âThat is for His Majestyâs Justices of the Peace to discover. Till they do, I shall
maintain that I consulted him concerning the laws governing bond-servants.â

âA pretty state the country âs come to!â raged the squire. âNo wonder there is no governing the land, when
even servants think to have the law against their masters. But, harkee, my fine fellow. If I may not punish ye
myself, the Justices may order ye whipped, and unless ye change your manners I will have ye up before their
next sitting. Meantime, saddle Joggles as soon as supper is done, and take this paper over to Brunswick, and
post it on the proclamation board of the Town Hall. And no tarrying, and consulting of tricky lawyers,
understand. If ye are not back by nine, ye shall hear from me.â

Striking a sunflower with his cane as a slight vent to his anger, the master strode away to the house.

His back turned. Janice once again held out the miniature. âWonât you please take it?â she begged.

âArt tired of it already?â jeered the man.

âI did not take it, Charles,â she stammered, âbut I knew of its taking and so brought it back to you.â

The man shrugged his shoulders. ââT is not mine, nor is it aught to me,â he said, and passing the girl, walked
to the house.

IV AN APPLE OF DISCORD 21
V
THE VALUE OF HAIR
At the evening meal the farm hands and negro house-servants remarked in Fownes not merely his customary
unsocial silence, but an abstraction more obvious than usual. A gird or two from the rougher of his
fellow-labourers was wholly unnoted by him, and though he ate heartily, it was with such entire
unconsciousness of what he was eating as to make the cook, Sukey, who was inclined to favour him, question
if after all he deserved special consideration at her hands.

The meal despatched, Charles took his way to the stable, but some motive caused him to stop at the horse
trough, lean over it, and examine the reflection of his face. Evidently what he saw was not gratifying, for he
vainly tried to smooth down his short hair, and then passed his hand over the scrub of his beard. ââT is said
clothes make the gentleman,â he muttered, âbut methinks ât is really the barber. How many of the belles of the
Pump Room and the Crescent would take me for other than a clodhopper? âT was not Charles LorâCharles
what? âto whom they curtesied and ogled and smirked, ât was to a becoming wig and a smooth chin.â
Snapping his fingers contemptuously, he went in and began to saddle the horse.

A half-hour later, the man rode up the village street of Brunswick. Hitching Joggles to a post in front of the
King George tavern, he walked to the board on the side of the Town Hall and Court House. Here, over a three
monthsâ old proclamation, he posted the anonymous note recently received by the squire, which had been
wafered to a sheet of pro patria paper, and below which the squire had written:â

This is to give notice that I despise too much the cowardly villain who wrote and nailed this
on my door to pay any attention to him. A Reward of two pounds will be given for any
information leading to the discovery of said cowardly villain.

Lambert Meredith.

For a moment the servant stood with a slight smile on his face at the contradiction; then, with a shrug of his
shoulders, he entered the public room of the tavern. Within the air was so thick with pipes in full blast, and the
light of the two dips was so feeble, that he halted in order to distinguish the dozen figures of the occupants, all
of whom gave him instant attention.

âAr want landlord,â he said, after a pause.

âHere I be,â responded a man sitting at a small table in the corner, with two half-emptied glasses and a bowl
of arrack punch before him. Opposite to mine host was a thick-set man of about forty, attired in a brown suit
and heavy top-boots, both of which bore the signs of recent travel.

The servant skirted the group at the large table in the centre of the room, and taking from his pocket a guinea,
laid it on the table. âCanst âe give change for thiccy?â he asked.

âI vum!â cried the landlord, as he picked up the coin and rang it on the table. ââT ainât often we git sight oâ
goold here. How much do yer want fer it?â

âWhy, twenty-one shillings,â replied the servant, with some surprise in his voice.

âIâll givit you dirty-two,â spoke up a Jewish-looking man at the big table, hurriedly pulling out his pouch and
counting down a batch of very soiled money from it, which he held out to the servant just as the landlord, too,
tendered him some equally ragged bills.

V THE VALUE OF HAIR 22

âTrust Opper to give a shilling less than its worth,â jeered one of the drinkers.

âBai thiccy money, Bagby?â questioned Charles, looking suspiciously at both tenders.

âNot much,â answered Bagby from the group about the large table, not one of whom had missed a word of the
foregoing conversation. ââT is shaved beef,ââa joke which called forth not a little laughter from his
companions.

âWill it buy a razor?â asked Fownes, quickly, turning to the lawyer with a smile.

âKeep it a week and ât will shave you itself,â retorted the joker, and this allusion to the steady depreciation of
the colony paper money called forth another laugh.

âThen ât is not blunt?â responded Charles, but no one save the traveller at the small table caught the play on
words, the Cockney cant term for money being unfamiliar to American ears. He smiled, and then studied the
bond-servant with more interest than he had hitherto shown.

Meanwhile, at the first mention of razor, the Jew had left the room, and he now returned, carrying a great
pack, which he placed upon the table.

âSir,â he said, in an accent which proved his appearance did not belie his race, while beginning to unstrap the
bundle, âI haf von be-utiful razor, uf der besdââ but here his speech was interrupted by a roar of laughter.

âYouâve a sharper to deal with now,â laughed the joker, and another called, âNow yeâll need no razor ter be
shaved.â

âChentlemen, chentlemen,â protested the peddler, âhaf nât I always dealt fair mit you?â He fumbled in his
half-opened pack, and shoving three razors out of sight, he produced a fourth, which he held out to the
servant. âDot iss only dree shillings, und it iss der besd of steel.â

âYou can trust Opper to know pretty much everything âbout steals,â sneered Bagby, who was clearly the local
wit. âIt âs been his business for twenty years.â

âI want a sharp razor, not a razor sharp,â said Charles, good-naturedly, while taking the instrument and trying
its edge with his finger.

âWhat business hez a bond-servant tew spend money fer a razor?â demanded the tavern-keeper, for nothing
then so marked the distinction between the well-bred and the unbred as the smooth faces of the one and the
hairy faces of the other.

âHasnât he a throat to cut?â demanded one of the group, âanâ hasnât a covenant man reason to cut it?â

âMore likes heâs goinâ a sparkin'," suggested one of the idlers. âThe gal up ter the squireâs holds herself
pooty high anâ mighty, but like as not sheâs as plaguey fond of bundling with a good-looking man on the sly
as most wenches.â

âIf she 's set on that, Iâm her man,â remarked Bagby.

âBundling?â questioned the covenant servant. âWhat âs that?â

V THE VALUE OF HAIR 23

The question only produced a roar of laughter at his ignorance, during which the traveller turned to the
publican and asked:â

âWho is this hind?â

ââT is a new bond-servant oâ Squire Meredithâs, who I hearn is no smouch on horses. Folks think heâs a
bloody-back who âs took French leave.â

âA deserter, heigh?â said the traveller, once more looking at the man, who was now exchanging with the
peddler the three-shilling note for the razor. He waited till the trade had been consummated, and then
suddenly said aloud, in a sharp, decisive way, âAttention! To the leftâdress!

Fownesâ body suddenly stiffened itself, his hands dropped to. his sides, and his head turned quickly to the
left. For a second he held this position, then as suddenly relaxing himself, he turned and eyed the giver of the
order.

âSo ho! my man. It seems ye have carried Brown Bess,â said the traveller, giving the slang term for the
musket.

Flushed in face, Fownes wheeled on the man hotly, while the whole room waited his reply in silence. âThou
liest!â he asserted.

âThou varlet!â cried the man so insulted, flushing in turn, as he sprang to his feet and caught up from the table
a heavy riding-whip.

As he did so, the bond-servantâs right hand went to his hip, as if instinctively seeking something there. The
travellerâs eyes followed the impulsive gesture, even while he, too, made a motion more instinctive than
conscious, by stepping backward, as if to avoid something. This motion he checked, and saidâ

âNo. Bond-servants donât wear bayonets.â

Again the colour sprang to Fownesâ face, and his lips parted as if an angry retort were ready. But instead of
uttering it, he turned and started to leave the room.

"Ay," cried the traveller, ârun, while there âs time, deserter.â

Fownes faced about in the doorway, with a smile on his face not pleasant to see, it was at once so
contemptuous and so lowering. Yet when he spoke there was an amused, almost merry note in his voice, as if
he were enjoying something.

âAr bainât no more deserter than thou baist spy,â he retorted, as he left the tavern and went to where his horse
was tethered. Unfastening him, he stood for a moment stroking the animalâs nose.

âJoggles,â he confided, âI fear, despite the praise the fair ones gave of my impersonation of âThe Fashionable
Lover,â that I am not so good an actor as either Garrick or Barry. I forget, and I lose my temper. So, a
bond-servant should cut his throat,â he continued, as he swung lightly into the saddle. âI fear ât is the only
way I can go undiscovered. Fool that I was to do it in a moment of passion. Five years of slavery!â Then he
laughed. âBut then Iâd never have seen her! Egad, if she could be painted as she looked to-day by Reynolds or
Gainsborough, âtwould set more than my blood glowing! Thereâs a prize, Joggles! Beauty, wealth, and
freedom, all in one. Sheâd be worth a tilt, too, if for nothing but the sport of it. Weâll shave, make a dandy of
ourselves, old manââ Then the servant pausedââand, like a fool, be recognised by some fellow like

V THE VALUE OF HAIR 24

Clowesâwhat does he here?âbut for my beard, and that heâd scarce expect to meet Charlesââ Fownes checked
himself, scowling. âCharles Nothing, a poor son of a gun of a bond-servant. Have done with such idiot
schemes, man,â he admonished. âFor what did you run, if ât was not to bury yourself? And now you âd risk
all for a petticoat.â Taking from his pocket the razor, he threw it into the bushes that lined the road, saying as
he did so, âGood-by, gentility.â

VI
MEN ARE DECEIVERS EVER
The departure of the bond-servant, leaving the sting of innuendo behind him, had turned all eyes toward the
traveller, and Bagby but voiced the curiosity of the roomful when he inquired, âWhat did Fownes call you spy
for?â

âNay, man, he called me not that,â denied the stranger, âunless he meant to call himself a deserter as well.
Landlord, a bowl of swizzle for the company! Gentlemen, I am Lincolnshire born and bred. My name is John
Evatt, and I am travelling through the country to find a likely settling place for six solid farmers, of whom I
am one. Whom did you say was yon rogueâs master?â

âSquire Meredith,â informed mine host, now occupied in combining the rum, spruce beer, and sugar at the
large table.

âAnd what sort of man is he?â asked Evatt, bringing his glass from the small table and taking his seat among
the rest.

âHe âs as hot-tempered anâ high anâ mighty as King George hisself,â cried one of the drinkers. âBut I guess
his stinkinâ pride will come down a little afore the committee of Brunswick âs through with him.â

âLet thy teeth keep better guard over thy red rag, Zerubbabel,â rebuked Joe Bagby, warningly. âWe want no
rattlepates to tell usâor othersâwhat âs needed or doing.â

âThis Meredith âs a man of property, eh?â asked Evatt.

âHe âs been so since he married Patty Byllynge,â replied the publican. âAfore then he war nât nothinâ but a
poor young lawyer over tew Trenton.â

âAnd who was Patty Byllynge?â

âYou donât know much âbout West Jersey, or I guess you âd have heard of her,â surmised Bagby. ââT is nât
every girl brings her husband a pot of money and nigh thirty thousand acres of land. Folks tell that before the
squire got her, the men was about her likeââ the speaker used a simile too coarse for repetition.

âSo ho!â said the traveller. âByllynge, heigh? Now I begin to understand. A daughterâor granddaughterâof
one of the patentees?â

âJust so. In the old manâs day they held the lands all along this side of the Raritan, nigh up to Baskinridge, but
they sold a lot in the forties.â

âThen perhaps this is the place to bargain about a bit? The land looked rich and warm as I rode along this
afternoon.â

VI MEN ARE DECEIVERS EVER 25

ââT ainât no use tryinâ ter buy of the new squire,â remarked one man. âHe wonât do nothinâ but lease. He
donât want no freemen âbout here.â

âYer might buy oâ Squire Hennion. He sells now anâ agin,â suggested the innkeeper.â

âWhoâs he?â demanded Evatt.

âAnother of the monopolisers who got a grant in the early days, before the land was good for anything,â
explained Bagby. âHis property is further down.â

âYe âd better bargain quick, if ye want any,â spoke up an oldster. âLooks like squarâs son was a-coortinâ
squarâs daughter, anâ mayhaps her moneyâll make old Squar Hennion less put tew it fer cash.â

âSo Squire Meredith is nât popular?â

âHeâll find out suthinâ next time he offers fer Assembly,â asserted one of the group.

âHe âs a member of Assembly, is he?â questioned Evatt. âThen heâs all right onâhe belongs to the popular
party?â

âNot he!â cried several.

âHe was agin the Association, tried tew prevent our sendinâ deputies tew Congress, anâ boasts that tea âs
drunk at his table,â said the landlord.

ââT wonât be for long,â growled Bagby.

âThen how comes it that ye elect him Assemblyman?â

ââT is his tenants do it,â spoke up the lawyer. âThey donât have the pluck to vote against him for fear of their
leaseholds. And so ât is with the rest. The only way we can get our way is by conventions and committees.
But get it we will, let the gentry try as they please.â

âWell, gentlemen,â said Evatt, âhere âs the swizzle. Glasses around, and Iâll give ye a toast ye can all drink:
May your freedom never be lessened by either Parliament or Congress!â

Two hours of drinking and talking followed, and when the last of the tipplers had staggered through the door,
and Evatt, assisted by the publican, had reeled rather than walked upstairs to his room, if he was not fully
informed as to the locality of which the tavern was the centre, it was because his brain was too fuddled by the
mixed drink, and not because tongues had been guarded.

Eighteenth-century heads made light of drinking bouts, and Evatt ate a hearty breakfast the next morning.
Thus fortified, he called for his horse, and announced his intention of seeing Squire Meredith âabout that
damned impertinent varlet.â

Arrived at Greenwood, it was to find that the master of the house was away, having ridden to Bound Brook to
see some of his more distant tenants; but in colonial times visitors were such infrequent occurrences that he
was made welcome by the hostess, and urged to stay to dinner. âMr. Meredith will be back ere nightfall,â she
assured him, âand will deeply regret having missed thee if thou rides away.â

âMadam,â responded Evatt, âAmerican hospitality is only exceeded by American beauty.â

VI MEN ARE DECEIVERS EVER 26

It was impossible not to like the stranger, for he was a capital talker, having much of the chat of London, tasty
beyond all else to colonial palates, at his tongueâs tip. With a succession of descriptions or anecdotes of the
frequenters of the Park and Mall, of Vauxhall and Ranelagh, he entertained them at table, the two girls sitting
almost open-mouthed in their eagerness and delight.

The meal concluded, the ladies regretfully withdrew, leaving Evatt to enjoy what he chose of a decanter of the
squireâs best Madeira, which had been served to him, visitors of education being rare treats indeed. Like all
young peoples, Americans ducked very low to transatlantic travellers, and, truly colonial, could not help but
think an Englishman of necessity a superior kind of being.

The guest filled his glass, unbuttoned the three lower buttons of his waistcoat, and slouched back in his chair.
Then he put the wine to his lips, and holding the swallow in his mouth to prolong the enjoyment, a look of
extreme contentment came over his visage. And if he had put his thoughts into words, he would have said:â

âBy Heavens! What wine and what women! The one they smuggle, but where get they the other? In a rough
new country whoâd think to encounter greater beauty and delicacy than can be seen skirting the Serpentine?
Such eyes, such a waist, and such a wrist! And those cheeksâhow the colour comes and goes, telling
everything that she would hide! And to think that some bumpkin will enjoy lips fit for a duke. Burn it! If ât
were not for my task, Iâd have a try for Miss Innocence andââ The man glanced out of the window and let his
eyes wander over the landscape, while he drained his glassâ âThirty thousand acres of land!â he said aloud,
with a smack of pleasure.

His eyes left off studying the fields to fix themselves on Janice, who passed the window, with the garden as an
evident destination, and they followed her until she disappeared within the opening of the hedge. âThereâs a
foot and ankle,â he exclaimed with an expression on his face akin to that it had worn as he tasted the Madeira.
ââT would fire enough sparks in London to set the Thames all aflame!â He reached for the Madeira once
more, but after removing the stopper, he hesitated a moment, then replacing it, he rose, buttoned his waistcoat,
and taking his hat from the hall, he slipped through the window and walked toward the garden.

Finding that Janice was not within the hedge-row, Evatt passed across the garden quickly and discovered the
young lady standing outside the stable, engaged in the extremely undignified occupation of whistling. Her
reason for the action was quickly revealed by the appearance of Clarion; and still unconscious that she was
watched, after a word with the dog, they both started toward the river.

A few hasty strides brought the man up with the maiden, and as she slightly turned to see who had joined her,
he said, âMay I walk with you, Miss Meredith? I intended a stroll about the farm, and it will be all the
pleasanter for so fair a guide.â

Shyly but eagerly the girl assented, and richly rewarded was she in her own estimate by what the visitor had to
tell. More gossip of court, of the lesser world of fashion, and of the theatre, he retailed: how the king walked
and looked, of the rivalry between Mrs. Barry and Mrs. Baddeley, of Charles Foxâs debts and eloquence, of
the vogue of Cecilia Davis, or âLâInglesina.â To Janice, hungry with the true appetite of provincialism, it was
all the most delicious of comfits. To talk to a man who could imitate the way the Duke of Gloucester limped
at a levee when suffering from the gout, and who was able to introduce a story by saying, âAs Lady Rochford
once said to me at one of her routsââ was almost like meeting those distinguished beings themselves. Janice
not merely failed to note that the man paid no heed whatever to the land they strolled over, but herself ceased
to give time or direction the slightest thought.

âOh!â she broke out finally, in her delight, âwonât Tibbie be sorry when she knows what sheâs missed? And,
forsooth, a proper pay out for her wrong-doing it is!â

VI MEN ARE DECEIVERS EVER 27

âWhat mean ye by that?â questioned Evatt.

âShe deserves to have it known, but though she called me tattle-tale, Iâm no such thing,â replied Janice, who
in truth was still hot with indignation at Miss Drinker, and wellnigh bursting to confide her grievance against
her whilom friend to this most delightful of men. âDoubtless, you observed that we are not on terms. That was
why I came off without her.â

Evatt, though not till this moment aware of the fact, nodded his head gravely.

ââT is all her doings, though sheâd be glad enough to make it up if I would let her. A fine frenzy her ladyship
would be in, too, if she dreamt heâd given me the miniature.â

âA miniature!â marvelled the visitor, encouragingly. âOf whom?â

ââT is just whatâOh, I think Iâll tell thee the whole tale and get thy advice. I dare not go to mommy, for I
know sheâd make me give it up, and dadda being away, and Tibbie in a snip-snap, I have no one toâand
perhapsâIâd never tell thee to shame Tibbie, but because I need advice andââ

âA man with half an eye would know you were no tale-bearer, Miss Janice," her companion assured her.

Thus prompted and enticed, the girl poured out the whole story. âI wish I could show you the picture,â she
ended. "She is the most beautiful creature I ever saw.â

âHast never looked in a mirror, Miss Janice?"

âNow thou ât just teasing.â

âIâ faith, ât is the last thought in my mind,â said Evatt, heartily.

âYou really think me pretty?â questioned the girl, with evident delight if uncertainty.

Evatt studied the eager, guileless face questioningly turned to him, and had much ado to keep from smiling.

ââT is impossible not to think it,â he replied.

âEven after seeing the court beauties?â demanded Janice, half doubtful and half joyous.

âNot one but would have to give the pas to ye, Miss Janice,â protested Evatt, âcould ye but be presented at St.
James's.â

âHow lovely!â cried Janice, ecstatically, and then in sudden abasement asserted, âOh, I know you areâyou are
only making fun of me!â

âNow, burn me, if I am!â insisted the man, with such undoubted admiration in his manner as to confirm his
words to the girl. âBy Heaven!â he marvelled to himself. âWho âd have believed such innocence possible? âT
is Mother Eve before the fall! She knows nothing.â A view of woman likely to get Mr. Evatt into trouble.
There is very little information concerning the ante-prandial Eve, but from later examples of her sex, it is safe
to affirm that the mother of the race knew several things before partaking of the tree of knowledge. Man only
is born so stupid as to need education.

VI MEN ARE DECEIVERS EVER 28

âWhy canst thou not let me have sight of this wondrous female?â he went on aloud. âSurely thou art not really
fearsome to brave comparison."

ââT is not that, indeed,â denied Janice, colouring, âbutâ wellâin a moment.â The girl turned her back to Mr.
Evatt, and in a moment faced him once more, the miniature in her hand. âIs nât she beautiful?â

Evatt looked at the miniature. âThat she is,â he assented. âAnd strike me dumb, but she reminds me of some
woman Iâve once seen in London.â

âOh, how interesting!â exclaimed the girl. âWhat was her name?â

ââT is exactly that I am asking myself.â

âHe must be well-born,â argued Janice, âto have her miniature; look at the jewels in her hair.â

âAh, my child, there âs more than the well-born wearââ the man stopped short. âHow know ye,â he went on,
âthat the bondsman comes by it rightly? The frame is one of price.â

âI donât,â the girl replied, âand the initials on the back are nât his.â

ââW. H. J. B.,ââ read Evatt.

âHe may have changed his name,â suggested Janice.

âTrue,â assented the man, with a slight laugh; âthat âs a mighty clever thought and gives us a clue to his real
one.â

âPerhaps youâve heard of a man in London with a name to fit W. H. J. B.?â said the maid, inquiringly.

Evatt turned away to conceal an unsuppressable smile, while thinking, âThe innocent imagines London but
another Brunswick!â

âDost think I should make him take it back?â asked Janice.

âCertainly not,â replied her advise; responding to the only too manifest wish of the girl.

âThen dost think I should speak to mommy or dadda?â

ââT is surely needless! The fellow refuses it, and so ât is yours till he demands it.â

âHow lovely! Oh, Iâd like to be home this instant, to see how ât would appear about my neck. Last night I
crept out of bed to have a look, but Tibbie turned over, and I thought me she was waking. I think Iâll go at
once andââ

âAnd end our walk?â broke in Evatt, reproachfully.

ââT is nearly tea-time,â replied Janice, pointing to the sun. âHow the afternoon has flown!â

âThanks to my charming companion,â responded the man, bowing low.

âNow you are teasing again,â cried Janice. âI donât like to be made funââ

VI MEN ARE DECEIVERS EVER 29

ââT is my last thought,â cried Evatt, with unquestionable earnestness, and possessing himself of Janiceâs
hand, he stooped and kissed it impetuously and hotly.

The colour flooded up into the maidenâs face and neck at the action, but still more embarrassing to her was
the awkward pause which ensued, as they set out on their return. She could think of nothing to say, and the
stranger would not help her. âLet her blush and falter and stammer,â was his thought. âEvery minute of
embarrassment is putting me deeper in her thoughts.â

VII
SPIDER AND FLY
Fortunately for the girl, the distance to the house was not great, and the rapid pace she set in her stress quickly
brought them to the doorway, which she entered with a sigh of relief. The guest was at once absorbed by her
father, and Janice sought her room.

As she primped, the miniature lay before her, and occasionally she paused for a moment to look at it. Finally,
when properly robed, she picked it up and held it for a moment. âI wonder if she broke his heart?â she
soliloquised. âI donât see how he could help loving her; I know I should.â Janice hesitated for a moment, and
then tucked the miniature into her bosom. âIf only Tibbie wasnâtâifâwe could talk about it,â she sighed, as she
pinned on her little cap of lace above the hair dressed high à la Pompadour. âWhy did she have to beâjust as
so many important things were to happen!â Miss Meredith looked at her double in the mirror, and sighed
again. âMr. Evatt must have been laughing at me,â she said, âfor she is so much prettier. But I should like to
know why Charles always stares so at me.â

In the meantime, Evatt, without so much as an allusion to the bond-servant, had presented a letter from a New
Yorker, introducing him to the squire, and by the confidence thus established he proceeded to question Mr.
Meredith long and carefully, not about farming lands and profits, but concerning the feeling of the country
toward the questions then at issue between Great Britain and America. He made as they talked an occasional
note, and the interview ended only with Pegâs announcement of supper. Nor was this allowed to terminate the
inquiry, for the squire, as Mrs. Meredith had foreseen, insisted on Evattâs spending the night, and Charles was
accordingly ordered to ride over to the inn for the travellerâs saddlebags. After the ladies had left the two men
at the table, the questioning was resumed over the spirits and pipes, and not till ten oâclock was passed did
Evatt finally rise. Clearly he must have pleased the squire as well as he had the dames, for Mr. Meredith, with
the hospitality of the time, pressed him heartily to stay for more than the morrow, assuring him of a welcome
at Greenwood for as long as he would make it his abiding spot.

âNothing, sir, would give me greater pleasure,â responded Evatt, warmly, âbut in confidence to ye, as a friend
of government, I dare to say that my search for a farm is only the ostensible reason for my travels. I am
executing an important and delicate mission for our government, and having already journeyed through the
colonies to the northward, I must still travel through those of the south. âT is therefore quite impossible for me
to tarry more than the night. I should, in fact, not have dared to linger thus long were it not that your name was
on the list given me by Lord Dartmouth of those to be trusted and consulted. And the information ye have
furnished me concerning this region has proved that his Lordship did not err in his opinion as to your
knowledge, disposition, and ability.â

[Illustration: âThe British ran!â]

This sent the squire to his pillow with a delightful sense of his own importance, and led him to confide to the
nightcap on the pillow beside him that âMr. Evatt is a man of vast insight and discrimination.â Regrettable as
it is to record, the visitor, before seeking his own pillow, mixed some ink powder in a mug with a little water

VII SPIDER AND FLY 30

and proceeded to add to a letter already begun the following paragraph:â

âFrom thence I rode to Brunswick, a small Town on the Raritan. Here I find the same division
of Sentiment I have already dwelt upon to your Lordship. The Gentry, consisting hereabouts
of but two, are sharply opposed to the small Farmers and Labourers, and cannot even rely
upon their own Tenantry for more than a nominal support. Neither of the great Proprietors
seem to be Men of sound Judgment or natural Popularity, and Mr. Lambert Meredithâa name
quite unknown to your Lordship, but of some consequence in this Colony through a fortunate
Marriage with a descendant of one of the original Patenteesâat the last Election barely
succeeded in carrying the Poll, and is represented to be a Man of much impracticality,
hot-tempered, a stickler over trivial points, at odds with his Neighbours, and not even Master
of his own Household. To such Men, my Lord, has fallen the Contest, on behalf of
Government, while opposed to them are self-made Leaders, of Eloquence, of Force, and, most
of all, of Dishonesty. Issues of Paper Money, escape from all Taxation, free Lands,
suspensions of Debtsâsuch and an hundred other tempting Promises they ply the People with,
while the Gentry sit helpless, save those who, seeing how the Tide sets, throw Principles to
the Wind, and plunge in with the popular Leaders. Believe me, my Lord, as I have urged
already, a radical change of Government, and a plentiful sprinkling of Regiments, will alone
prevent the Disorders from rising to a height that threatens Anarchy.â

Though the visitor was the last of the household abed, he was early astir the next morning, and while Charles
was beginning his labours of the day, by leading each horse to the trough in the barnyard, Evatt joined him.

âWe made a bad start at our first meeting, my man,â he said in a friendly manner, âand I have only myself to
blame for ât. One should keep his own secrets.â

ââT is a sorry calling yours would be if many kept to that,â replied Fownes, with a suggestion of contempt.

Evatt bit his lip, and then forced a smile. âThe old saying runs that three could keep a secret if two were but
dead.â

Charles smiled. âMy two will never trouble me,â he said meaningly, âso save your time and breath.â

âHadst best not be so sure,â retorted Evatt, in evident irritation. ââTwixt thine army service, the ship that
fetched thee on, and that miniature, I have more clues than have served to ferret many a secret.â

âAnd entirely lack the important one. Till you have that, I donât fear you. What is more, Iâll tell you what ât
is.â

âWhat?â asked the man.

âA reward,â sneered Fownes.

âI see Iâve a sly tyke to deal with,â said the man. âBut if ye choose notââ The speaker checked himself as
Janice came through the opening in the hedge, and the two stood silently watching her as she approached.

âCharles,â she said, when within speaking distance, while holding out the miniature, âIâve decided you must
take this.â

Charles smiled pleasantly. âThen ât is your duty to make me, Miss Meredith,â he replied, folding his arms.

VII SPIDER AND FLY 31

âWonât you please take it?â begged Janice, not a little non-plussed by her position, and that Evatt should be a
witness of it. âWe know it belongs to you, and ât is too valuable for me toââ

âHow know you that?â questioned the man, still smiling pleasantly.

âBecause ât was with your clothes when you went in swimming,â said Janice, frankly.

âMiss Meredith,â replied Charles, âthe word of a poor devil of a bond-servant can have little value, but I
swear to you that that never belonged to me, and that I therefore have no right to it. If it gives you any
pleasure, keep it.â

âThat is as good as saying ye stole it,â asserted Evatt.

Charles smiled contemptuously. ââAll are not thieves whom dogs bark at,ââ he retorted. âNor are all of us
sneaks and spies,â he added, as, turning, he led away the horse toward the stable.

âYon fellow does nât stickle at calling ye names, Miss Meredith,â said Evatt.

âHe has no right to call me a spy,â cried the girl, indignantly.

âHis words deserve no more heed than what he said tâother night at the tavern of ye.â

âWhat said he at the tavern?â demanded Janice.

ââT is best left unspoken.â

âI want to know what he said of me,â insisted Miss Meredith.

ââT would only shame ye.â

âHeâhe told ofâhe did nât tell them I took the miniature?â faltered Janice.

Again Evatt bit his lip, but this time to keep from smiling. âWorse than that, my child,â he replied.

âWhy should he insult me?â protested Janice, proudly, but still colouring at the possibility.

âYe do right to suppose it unlikely. Yet ât is so, and while I can hardly hope that my word will be taken for it,
his lies to us a moment since prove that he is capable of any untruth.â

Evatt spoke with such honesty of manner, and with such an apparent lack of motive for inventing a tale, that
Janice became doubtful. âHe could nât insult me,â she said, âfor IâI have nât done anything.â

ââT is certain that he did. Had I but known ye at the time, Miss Janice, he should have been made to swallow
his coarse insult. âT was for that I sought him this morning. Had ye not interrupted us, ât would have fared
badly for him.â

âYou were very kind,â said Janice, dolefully, beginning, more from his manner than his words, to believe
Evatt. âI did nât know there were such bad men in the world. And for him to say it at the tavern, where ât will
be all over the county in no time! Was it very bad?â

âNo one would believe a redemptioner,â replied Evatt. âYet had I the rightââ

VII SPIDER AND FLY 32

âMarse Meredith send me to tell youse come to breakfast,â interrupted Peg from the gateway in the box.

âWhy!â exclaimed the girl. âIt canât be seven.â

âThe squire ordered it early, that I might be in the saddle betimes,â explained Evatt, and then as the girl
started toward the house, he checked the movement by taking her hand. âMiss Janice,â he said, âin a half-hour
I shall ride awayânot because ât is my wish, but because Iâm engaged in an important and perilous missionâa
missionâcan ye keep a secretâeven fromâfrom your father and mother?â

Janice was too young and inexperienced to know that a secret is of all things the most to be avoided, and
though her little hand, in her womanâs intuition that all was not right, tried feebly to free itself, she none the
less answered eagerly if half-doubtfully, âYes.â

âI am sent here under an assumed nameâby His Majesty. YeâI was indiscreet enough with ye, to tellâto show
that I was other than what I pretend to be, but I felt then and now that I could trust ye. Ye will keep secret all I
say?â

Again Janice, with her eyes on the ground, said, âYes.â

âI must do the kingâs work, and when ât is done I return to England and resume my true position, and ye will
never again hear of meâunlessââ The man paused, with his eyes fixed on the downcast face of the girl.

âUnless?â asked Janice, when the silence became more embarrassing than to speak.

âUnless yeâunless ye give me the hope that by first returning hereâas your father has asked me to doâthat I
mayâmay perhaps carry ye away with me. Ah, Miss Janice, ât is an outrage to keep such beauty hidden in the
wilds of America, when it might be the glory of the court and the toast of the town.â

Again a silence ensued, fairly agonising to the bewildered and embarrassed girl, which lengthened, it seemed
to her, into hours, as she vainly sought for some words that she might speak.

âPlease let go my hand,â she begged finally.

âNot till you give me a yea or nay.

âBut I canâtâI donâtââ began Janice, and then as footsteps were heard, she cried, âOh, let me go! Here comes
Charles.â

âMay I come back?â demanded Evatt.

âYes,â assented the girl, desperately.

âAnd ye promise to be secret?â

âI promise,â cried Janice, and to her relief recovered her hand, just as Charles entered the garden.

Like many another of her sex, however, she found that to gain physical and temporary freedom she had only
enslaved herself the more, for after breakfast Evatt availed himself of a momentâs interest of Mrs. Meredithâs
in the ordering down of his saddle-bags, and of the squireâs in the horse, to say to Janice, aside:â

VII SPIDER AND FLY 33

âI gave ye back your hand, Janice, but remember ât is mine,â and before the girl could frame a denial, he was
beside Mr. Meredith at the stirrup, and, ere many minutes, had ridden away, leaving behind him a very much
flattered, puzzled, and miserable demoiselle.

VIII
SEVERAL BURNING QUESTIONS
The twenty-four hours of Evattâs visit troubled Janice in recollection for many a day, and marked the
beginning of the most distinct change that had come to her. The experience was in fact that which befalls
every one somewhere between the ages of twelve and thirty, by which youth first learns to recognise that life
is not mere living, but is rather the working out of a strange problem compounded of volition and necessity,
accident and fatality. The pledge of secrecy preyed upon her, the strangerâs assumption that she had bound
herself distressed her, and the thought that she had been the subject of tavern talk made her furious. Yet she
had promised concealment, she was powerless to write to Evatt denying his pretension, and she could not
counteract a slander the purport of which was unknown to her. Had she and Tibbie but been on terms, she
might have gained some relief by confiding her woes to her, but that young ladyâs visit came to an end so
promptly after the departure of Evatt that restoration of good feeling was only obtained in the parting kiss. For
the first time in her life, Janiceâs head would keep on thinking after it was resting on its pillow, and many a
time that enviable repository was called upon to dry her tears and cool her burning cheeks. Never, it seemed to
her, had man or woman borne so great a burden of trouble.

The change in the girl was too great not to be noticed by the household of Greenwood. Mrs. Meredith joyfully
confided to the Rev. Mr. McClave that she thought an âeffectual callingâ had come to her daughter, and that
Janice was in a most promising condition of unhappiness. Thus encouraged, the divine, who was a widower of
forty-two, with five children sadly needing a womanâs care, only too gladly made morning calls on the
daughter of his wealthiest parishioner, and in place of the discussions with Tibbie over romance in general,
and the bond-servant in particular, as they sewed or knitted, Janice was forced to attend to long monologues
specially prepared for her benefit, on what to the presbyter were the truly burning questions of justification,
adoption, and sanctification. What is more, she not only listened dutifully, but once or twice was even moved
to tears, to the enormous encouragement of Mr. McClave. The squire, who highly resented the lost vivacity
and the new seriousness, insisted that the âgirl shaânât be made into a long-faced, psalm-singing hypocrite;â
but not daring to oppose what his wife approved, he merely expressed his irritation to Janice herself, teasing
and fretting her scarcely less than did Mr. McClave.

Not the least of her difficulties was her bearing toward the bondsman. Conditions were still so primitive that
the relations between master and servant were yet on a basis that made the distinctions between them ones of
convenience rather than convention, and thus Janice was forced to mark out a new line of conduct. At first she
adopted that of avoidance and proud disregard of him, but his manner toward her continued to convey such
deference that the girl found her attitude hard to maintain, and presently began to doubt if he could be guilty
of the imputation. Nor could she be wholly blind to the fact that the groom had come to take a marked interest
in her. She noted that he made occasion for frequent interviews, and that he dropped all pretence of speaking
to her in his affected Somerset dialect. When now she ventured out of doors, she was almost certain to
encounter him, and rarely escaped without his speaking to her; while he often came into the kitchen on
frivolous pretexts when she was working there, and seemed in no particular haste to depart.

Several times he was detected by Mrs. Meredith thus idling within doors, and was sharply reproved for it.
Neither to this, nor to the squireâs orders that he should put an end to his ânight-walkingâ and to his trips to
the village, did he pay the slightest heed.

VIII SEVERAL BURNING QUESTIONS 34

Fownes entered the kitchen one morning in November while Janice and Sukey were deep in the making of
some grape jelly, carrying an armful of wood; for the bond-servant for once had willingly assumed a task that
had hitherto been Tomâs. Putting the logs down in the wood-box, he stood with back to the fire, studying
Miss Meredith, as, well covered with a big apron, with rolled up sleeves, flyaway locks, and flushed cheeks,
she pounded away in a mortar, reducing loaf sugar to usable shape.

âNow youse clar right out of yar,â said Sukey, who, though the one servant who was fond of Charles, like all
good cooks, was subject to much ferment of mind when preserving was to the fore. âWe uns doan want no
men folks clutterinâ de fire.â

âAh, Sukey,â besought Charles, appealingly, âthere âs a white frost this morning, and ât is bitter outside. Let
me just warm my fingers?â

Sukey promptly relented, but the chill in Fownesâ fingers was clearly not unendurable, for in a moment he
came to the table, and putting his hand over that of Janice, which held the pestle, he said:â

âLet me do the crushing. âT is too hard work for you.â

âI wish you would,â Miss Meredith somewhat breathlessly replied. âMy arms are almost ready to drop off.â

ââT would set the quidnuncs discussing to which of the Greek goddesses they belonged,â remarked Fownes.
Then he was sorry he had said it, for Miss Meredith promptly unrolled her sleeves; not because in her secret
heart she did not like the speech, but because of a consciousness that Charles was noticing what the Greek
goddesses generally lack. A low-cut frock was almost the unvarying dress of the ladies, there was nothing
wrong in the display of an ankle, and elbow sleeves were very much the vogue, but to bare the arms any
higher was an immodesty not permitted to those who were then commonly termed the âbon ton.â

This addition to the working staff promptly produced an order from Sukey for Janice to assume the duty of
stirring a pot just placed over the fire, âwhile I âse goes down cellar anâ cars a shelf for them jellies to set on.
Keep a stirrinâ, honey, so âs it wonât burn,â was her parting injunction.

No sooner was the cook out of hearing than Charles spoke: "For two days,â he said in a low voice, âI have
tried to get word with you. Wonât you come to the stable when I am there?â

âAre you going to crush that sugar?â asked Miss Meredith.

âArt going to come to the stable?â calmly questioned Charles.

âGive me the pestle!â said Janice, severely.

âBecause if you wonât,â continued the groom, âI shall have to say what I want now.â

âI prefer not to hear it,â Janice announced, moving from the fire.

âYou must keep on stirring, or ât will burn, Miss Janice,â the man reminded her, taking a mean advantage of
the situation.

Janice came back and resumed her task, but she said, âI donât choose to listen.â

âT is for thy fatherâs sake I ask it.â

VIII SEVERAL BURNING QUESTIONS 35

âHow?â demanded the girl, looking up with sudden interest.

âI went to the village tâ other night,â replied the man, âto drillââ Then he checked himself in evident
disconcertion.

âDrill?â asked Janice. âWhat drill?â

âLet us call it quadrille, since that is not the material part,â said Charles. âWhat is to the point is that
afterâafter doing what took me, I stayed to help in Guy Fawkesâ fun on the green.â

âWell?â questioned the girl, encouragingly.

âThe frolickers had some empty tar barrels and an effigy of the Pope, and they gave him and a copy of the
Boston Port Bill each a coat of tar and leaves, and then burned them.â

âWhat fun!â cried Janice, ceasing to stir in her interest. âI wish mommy would let me go. She says ât is
unbecoming in the gentility, but I donât see why being well born should be a reason for not having as good a
time asââ

âAs servants?â interrupted Fownes, hotly, as if her words stung him.

âIâm afraid, Charles,â reproved Janice, assuming again a severe manner, âthat you have a very bad temper.â

Perhaps the man might have retorted, but instead he let the anger die from his face, as he fixed his eyes on the
floor. âI have, Miss Janice,â he acknowledged sadly, after a momentâs pause, âand ât is the curse of my life.â

âYou should discipline it,â advised Miss Meredith, sagely. âWhen I lose my temper, I always read a chapter in
the Bible,â she added, with a decidedly âholier than thouâ in her manner.

âHow many times hast thou read the good book through, Miss Janice?â asked Fownes, smiling, and Miss
Meredithâs virtuous pose became suddenly an uncomfortable one to the young lady.

âYou were to tell me something about Mr. Meredith,â she said stiffly.

âAfter burning the Pope and the bill, ât was suggested by some to empty the pot of tar on the fire. But
objection was made, because

âBecause?â questioned Janice.

âSomeone said ât would be needed shortly to properly season green wood, and therefore must not be wasted.â

âYou donât think theyâ?â cried Janice, in alarm.

The servant nodded his head. âThe feeling against the squire is far deeper than you suspect. âT will find vent
in some violence, I fear, unless he yield to public sentiment.â

âHeâll never truckle to the country licks and clouted shoons of Brunswick,â asserted Janice, proudly.

ââT will fare the worse for him. âT is as sensible to run counter to public opinion as ât is to cut roads over
mountains.â

VIII SEVERAL BURNING QUESTIONS 36

ââT is worse still to be a coward,â cried Janice, contemptuously. âI fear, Charles, you are very mean-spirited.â

Fownes shrugged his shoulders. âAs a servant should be,â he muttered bitterly.

âEven a servant can do what is right,â answered the girl.

ââT is not a question of right, ât is one of expediency,â replied the bondsman. âA year at court, Miss Janice,
would teach you that in this world ât is of monstrous importance to know when to bow."

âWhat do you know of court?â exclaimed Janice.

âVery little,â confessed the man. âBut I know it teaches one good lesson in life,âthat of submission,âand an
important thing ât is to learn.â

âI only bow to those whom I know to be my superiors,â said Janice, with her head held very erect.

ââT is an easy way for you to avoid bowing,â asserted the groom, smiling.

Again Janice sought a change of subject by saying, âThink you that is why we are being spied upon?â

âSpied?â questioned the bondsman.

âLast week dadda thought he saw a face one evening at the parlour window, and two nights ago I looked up
suddenly and sawâWell, mommy said ât was only vapours, but I know I saw something.â

The servant turned his face away from Janice, and coughed. Then he replied, âPerhaps ât was some one
watching you. Didst make no attempt to find him?â

âDadda went to the window both times, but could see nothing.â

âHe probably had time to hide behind the shrubs,â surmised Charles. âI shall set myself to watching, and Iâll
warrant to catch the villain at it if he tries it again.â From the savageness with which he spoke, one would
have inferred that he was bitterly enraged at any one spying through the parlour window on Miss Meredithâs
evening hours.

âI wish you would,â solicited Janice. âFor if it happened again, I donât know what I should do. Mommy
insisted it was nât a ghost, and scolded me for screaming; but all the same, it gave me a dreadful turn. I did nât
go to sleep for hours.â

âI am sorry it frightened you,â said the servant, and then after a momentâs hesitation he continued, ââT was I,
and if I had thought for a moment to scare youââ

âYou!â cried Janice. âWhat were you doing there?â

The man looked her in the eyes while he replied in a low voice, âLooking at paradise, Miss Janice.â

âJanice Meredith,â said her motherâs voice, sternly, âthou good-for-nothing! Thouâst let the syrup burn, and
the smell is all over the house. Charles, what dost thou mean by loafing indoors at this hour of the day? Go
about thy work.â

And paradise dissolved into a pot of burnt syrup.

VIII SEVERAL BURNING QUESTIONS 37

IX
PARADISE AND ELSEWHERE
While Charles was within hearing, Mrs. Meredith continued to scold Janice about the burnt syrup, but this
subject was ended with his exit. âIâm ashamed that a daughter of mine should allow a servant to be so
familiar,â Mrs. Meredith began anew. ââT is a shame on us all, Janice. Hast thou no idea of what is decent and
befitting to a girl of thy station?â

âHe was nât familiar,â cried Janice, angrily and proudly, âand you should know that if he had been Iâhe was
telling meââ

âYes,â cried her mother, âtell me what he was saying about paradise? Dost think me a nizey, child, not to
know what men mean when they talk about paradise?â

Janiceâs cheeks reddened, and she replied hotly, âIf men talked to you about paradise, why should nât they
talk to me? Iâm sure ât is a pleasant change after the parsonâs everlasting and eternal talk of an everlasting
and eternalââ

âDonât thee dare say it!â interrupted Mrs. Meredith. âThou fallen, sin-eaten child! Go to thy room and stay
there for the rest of the day. âT is all of a piece that thou shouldst disgrace us by unseemly conduct with a
stable-boy. Fine talk ât will make for the tavern.â

The injustice and yet possible truth in this speech was too much for Janice to hear, and without an attempt at
reply, she burst into a storm of tears and fled to her room.

Deprived of a listener, Mrs. Meredith sought the squire, and very much astonished him by a prediction that,
âThy daughter, Mr. Meredith, is going to bring disgrace on the family.â

âWhatâs to do now?â cried the parent.

âA pretty to do, indeed,â his wife assured him. âDost want her running off some fine night with thy groom?â

âTush, Matilda!â responded Mr. Meredith. ââT is impossible.â

âJust what my parents said when thou camest a-courting.â

âI was no redemptioner.â

ââT was none the less a step-down for me,â replied Mrs. Meredith, calmly. âAnd I had far less levity thanââ

âNay, Matilda, she often reminds me veryââ

âLambert, I never was light! Or at least never after I sat under Dr. Edwards and had a call. The quicker we
marry Janice to Mr. McClave, the better ât will be for her.â

âNow, pox me!â cried the squire, âif Iâll give my lass to be made the drudge of another womanâs children.â

ââT is the very discipline she needs,â retorted the wife. âBut for my checking her a moment ago I believe
sheâd have spoken disrespectfully of hell!â

IX PARADISE AND ELSEWHERE 38

âSmall wonder!â muttered her husband. âIs ât not enough to ye Presbyterians to doom one to everlasting
torment in the future life without making this life as bad?â

ââT is the way to be saved,â replied Mrs. Meredith. âAs Mr. McClave said to Janice shortly since, âBe assured
that doing the unpleasant thing is the surest road to salvation, for thoâ it should not find grace in the eyes of a
righteously angry God, yet having been done from no carnal and sinful craving of the flesh, it cannot increase
his anger towards you.â Ah, Lambert, that man has the true gift.â

âSince heâs so damned set on being uncarnal,â snapped the squire, âlet him go without Janice.â

âAnd have her running off with an indentured servant, as Anne Loughton did?â

âSheâll do nothing of the kind. If ye want a husband for the lass, let her take Phil.â

âA bankrupt.â

âTush! There are acres enough to pay the old squireâs debts three times over. Sheâd bring Phil enough ready
money to clear it all, and ât is rich mellow land that will double in value, give it time.â

âI tell thee her head âs full of this bond-servant. The two were in the kitchen just now, talking about paradise,
and I know not what other foolishness.â

âThatâ said Mr. Meredith, with a grin of enjoyment, âsounds like true Presbyterian doctrine. The Westminster
Assembly seem to have left paradise out of the creation.â

âSuch flippancy is shameful in one of thy years, Mr. Meredith,â said his wife, sternly, âand canst have but one
ending.â

âThat is all any of us can have, Patty,â replied the squire, genially.

Mrs. Meredith went to the door, but before leaving the room, she said, still with a stern, set face, though with
a break in her voice, âIs ât not enough that my four babies are enduring everlasting torment, but my husband
and daughter must go the same way?â

âThere, there, Matilda!â cried the husband. ââT was said in jest only and was nothing more than lip music.
Come backââ the speech ended there as a door at a distance banged. âNow sheâll have a cry all by herself,â
groaned the squire. ââT is a strange thing she took it so bravely when the road was rough, yet now, when ât is
easy pulling, she lets it fret and gall her.â

Then Mr. Meredith looked into his fire, and saw another young girl, a little more serious than Janice, perhaps,
but still gay-hearted and loved by many. He saw her making a stolen match with himself; passed in review the
long years of alienation from her family, the struggle with poverty, and, saddest of all, the row of little
gravestones which told of the burial of the best of her youth. He saw the day finally when, a worn, saddened
woman, she at last was in the possession of wealth, to find in it no pleasure, yet to turn eagerly, and apparently
with comfort, to the teachings of that strange combination of fire and logic, Jonathan Edwards. He recalled the
two sermons during Edwardsâs brief term as president of Nassau Hall, which moved him so little, yet which
had convinced Mrs. Meredith that her dead babies had been doomed to eternal punishment and had made her
the stern, unyielding woman she was. The squire was too hearty an animal, and lived too much in the open air,
to be given to introspective thought, but he shook his head. âA strange warp and woof we weave of the skein,â
he sighed, âthat sorrow for the dead should harden us to the living.â Mr. Meredith rose, went upstairs, and
rapped at a door. Getting no reply, after a repetition of the knock, he went in.

IX PARADISE AND ELSEWHERE 39

A glance revealed what at first sight looked like a crumpled heap of clothes upon the bed, but after more
careful scrutiny the mass was found to have a head, very much buried between two pillows, and the due
quantity of arms and legs. Walking to the bed, the squire put his hand on the bundle.

âThere, lass,â he said, âât is nought to make such a pother about.â

âOh, dadda,â moaned Janice, âI am the most unhappy girl that ever lived.â

It is needless to say after this remark that Miss Meredithâs knowledge of the world was not of the largest, and
the squire, with no very great range of experience, smiled a little as he said:â

âThen ât will not make you more miserable to wed the parson?â

âDadda!â exclaimed the girl, rolling over quickly, to get a sight of his countenance. When she found him
smiling, the anxious look on the still red and tear-stained face melted away, and she laughed merrily. âThink
of the life Iâd give the good man! How I would wherrit him! He âd have to give up his church to have time
enough to preach to me.â Apparently the deep woe alluded to the moment before was forgotten.

âIâve no manner of doubt heâd enjoy the task,â declared the father, with evident pride. âAh, Jan, many a man
would enter the ministry, if he might be ordained parson of ye.â

âThe only parson I want is a father confessor,â said Janice, sitting up and giving him a kiss.

âThen what âs this maggot your mother has got in her head about ye and Charles and paradise?â laughed her
father.

âIndeed, dadda,â protested the girl, eagerly, âmommy was most unjust. I was to stir some syrup, and Charles
came into the kitchen and would talk to me, and as I could nât leave the pot, I had to listen, and thenâwell

âI thought as much!â cried the squire, heartily, when Janice paused. âWhere the syrup is, thereâll find ye the
flies. But weâll have no horse-fly buzzing about ye. My fine gentleman shall be taught where he belongs, if it
takes the whip to do it.â

âNo, dadda,â exclaimed Janice. âHe spoke but to warn me of danger to you. He says there âs preparation to tar
and feather you unless youâyou do something.â

âFoo!â sniffed the squire. âLet them snarl. Iâll show them Iâm not a man to be driven by tag, long tail, and
bobby.â

âBut Charlesââ began the girl.

âAy, Charles,â interrupted Mr. Meredith. âIâve no doubt heâs one of âem. âT is always the latest importations
take the hottest part against the gentry.â

âNay, dadda, I think heââ

âMark me, thatâs what takes the tyke to the village so often.â

âHe said ât was to drill he went.â

âTo drill?â questioned the squire. âWhat meant he by that?â

IX PARADISE AND ELSEWHERE 40

âI asked him, and he said ât was quadrille. Dost think he meant dancing or cards?â

ââT is in keeping that he should be a dancing master or a card-sharper,â asserted Mr. Meredith. âNo wonder ât
is a disordered land when ât is used as a catchall for every man not wanted in England. Weâll soon put a finish
to his night-walking.â

âI donât think heâs a villain, dadda, and he certainly meant kindly in warning us.â

âTo make favour by tale-bearing, no doubt.â

âIâm sure heâd not a thought of it,â declared Janice, with an unconscious eagerness which made the squire
knit his brows.

âYe speak warmly, child,â he said. âI trust your mother be not justified in her suspicion.â

The girl, who meanwhile had sprung off the bed, drew herself up proudly. âMommy is altogether wrong,â she
replied. âIâd never descend so low.â

âI said as much,â responded the squire, gleefully.

âA likely idea, indeed!â exclaimed Janice. âAs if Iâd have aught to do with a groom! No, I never could shame
the family by that.â

âWilt give me your word to that, Jan?â asked the squire.

âYes,â cried the girl, and then roguishly added, âWhy, dadda, Iâd as soon, yes, sooner, marry old Belza, who
at least is a prince in his own country, than see a Byllynge marry a bond-servant.â

X
A COLONIAL CHRISTMAS
For some weeks following the pledge of Janice, the life at Greenwood became as healthily monotonous as of
yore. Both Mr. and Mrs. Meredith spoke so sharply to both Sukey and Charles of his loitering about the
kitchen that his visits, save at meal times, entirely ceased. The squire went further and ordered him to put an
end to his trips to the village, but the man took this command in sullen silence, and was often absent.

One circumstance, however, very materially lessened the possible encounters between the bond-servant and
the maiden. This was no less than the setting in of the winter snows, which put a termination to all the girlâs
outdoor life, excepting the attendance at the double church services on Sundays, which Mrs. Meredith never
permitted to be neglected. From the window Janice sometimes saw the groom playing in the drifts with
Clarion, but that was almost the extent of her knowledge of his doings. It is to be confessed that she eagerly
longed to join them or, at least, to have a like sport with the dog. Eighteenth-century etiquette, however,
neither countenanced such conduct in the quality, nor, in fact, clothed them for it.

A point worth noting at this time was connected with one window of the parlour. Each afternoon as night shut
down, it was Pegâs duty to close all the blinds, for colonial windows not being of the tightest, every additional
barricade to Boreas was welcome, and this the servant did with exemplary care. But every evening after tea,
Janice always walked to a particular window and, opening the shutter, looked out for a moment, as if to see
what the night promised, before she took her seat at her tambour frame or sewing. Sometimes one of her
parents called attention to the fact that she had not quite closed the shutters again, and she always remedied

X A COLONIAL CHRISTMAS 41
the oversight at once. Otherwise she never looked at the window during the whole evening, glance where she
might. Presumably she still remembered the fright her putative ghost had occasioned her, and chose not to run
the chance of another sight of him. Almost invariably, however, in the morning she blew on the frost upon the
window of her own room and having rubbed clear a spot, looked below, much as if she suspected ghosts could
leave tracks in the snow. In her behalf it is only fair to say that the girls of that generation were so shut in as
far as regarded society or knowledge of men that they let their imaginations question and wander in a manner
difficult now to conceive. At certain ages the two sexes are very much interested in each other, and if this
interest is not satisfied objectively, it will be subjectively.

Snow, if a jailer, was likewise a defence, and apparently cooled for a time the heat of the little community
against the squire. Even the Rev. Mr. McClaveâs flame of love and love of flame were modified by the depth
of the drifts he must struggle through, in order to discourse on eternal torment while gazing at earthly
paradise. Janice became convinced that the powers of darkness no longer had singled her out as their
particular prey, and in the peaceful isolation of the winter her woes, when she thought of them, underwent a
change of grammatical tense which suggested that they had become things of the past.

One of her tormenting factors was not to be so treated. Philemon alone made nothing of the change of season,
riding the nine miles between his home and Greenwood by daylight or by moonlight, as if his feeling for the
girl not merely warmed but lighted the devious path between the drifts. Yet it was not to make love he came;
for he sat a silent, awkward figure when once within doors, speaking readily enough in response to the elders,
but practically inarticulate whenever called upon to reply to Janice. Her bland unconsciousness was a barrier
far worse than the snow; and never dreaming that he was momentarily declaring his love for her in a manner
far stronger than words, he believed her wholly ignorant of what he felt, and stayed for hours at a time,
longing helplessly for a turn of events which should make it possible for him to speak.

Philemon was thus engaged or disengaged one December morning when Peg entered the parlour where the
family were sitting as close to the fire as the intense glow of the hickory embers would allow, and handing
Janice a letter with an air of some importance, remarked, âCharles he ask me give you dat.â Then, colonial
servants being prone to familiarity, and negro slaves doubly so, Peg rested her weight on one foot, and waited
to learn what this unusual event might portend. All present instantly fixed their eyes upon Janice, but had they
not done so it is probable that she would have coloured much as she did, for the girl was enough interested
and enough frightened to be quite unconscious of the eyes upon her.

âA letter for thee, lass!â exclaimed the squire. âLet âs have the bowels of it.â

The necessity for that very thing was what made the occurrence so alarming to Janice, for her womanâs
intuition had at once suggested, the moment she had seen the bold hand-writing of the superscription, that it
could be from none other than Evatt, and she had as quickly surmised that her father and mother would insist
upon sight of the missive. Unaware of what it might contain, she sat with red cheeks, not daring to break the
seal.

âHast got the jingle brains, child?â asked her mother, sharply, âthat thou dost nothing but stare at it?â

Janice laid the letter in her lap, saying, ââT will wait till I finish this row.â It was certainly a hard fate which
forced her to delay the opening of the first letter she had ever received.

ââT will nothing of the sort,â said her mother, reaching out for the paper. âArt minded to read it on the sly,
miss? There shall be no letters read by stealth. Give it me.â

âOh, mommy,â begged the girl, desperately, âIâll show it to you, butâohâlet me read it first, oh, please!â

X A COLONIAL CHRISTMAS 42
âI think ât is best not,â replied her mother. âThy anxiety has an ill look to it, Janice.â

The girl handed the letter dutifully, and with an anxious attention watched her mother break it open, all
pleasure in the novelty of the occurrence quite overtopped by dread of what was to come.

âWhat nonsense is this?â was Mrs. Meredithâs anything but encouraging exclamation. Then she read out:â

ââT is unworthy of you, and of your acceptance, but ât is the fairest gift I could think of, and
the best that I could do. If you will but put it in the frame you have, it may seem more
befitting a token of the feelings that inspired it.â

Janice, unable to restrain her curiosity, rose and peered over her motherâs shoulder. From that vantage point
she ejaculated, âOh, how beautiful she is!â

What she looked at was an unset miniature of a young girl, with a wealth of darkest brown hair, powdered to a
gray, and a little straight nose with just a suggestion of a tilt to it, giving the mignon face an expression of
pride that the rest of the countenance by no means aided. For the remaining features, the mouth was still that
of a child, the short upper lip projecting markedly over the nether one, producing not so much a pouty look as
one of innocence; the eyes were brilliant black, or at least were shadowed to look it by the long lashes, and the
black eyebrows were slender and delicately arched upon a low forehead.

âArt a nizey, Janice,â cried her mother, ânot to know thine own face?â

âMommy!â exclaimed the girl. âIsâam I as pretty as that?â

ââT is vastly flattered,â said her mother, quickly. âI should scarce know it.â

âNay, Matilda,â dissented the squire, who was now also gazing at the miniature. ââT is a good phiz of our
lass, and but does her justice. Who ever sent it ye, Jan?â

âI suppose ât was Mr. Evatt,â confessed Janice.

âLetâs have sight of the wrapper,â said the father. âNay, Jan. This has been in no post-riderâs bag or ât would
bear the marks.â

âPeg, tell Charles to come here,â ordered Mrs. Meredith, and after a five minutes spent by the group in
various surmises, the bond-servant, followed by the still attentive Peg, entered the room.

âDidst find this letter at the tavern?â demanded the squire.

The groom looked at the wrapper held out to him, and replied, âMayhaps.â

âAnd what took ye there against my orders?â

Charles shrugged his shoulders, and then smiled. âAsk Hennion,â he said.

âWhat means he, Phil?â questioned the squire.

âNow youâve been anâ told the whole thing,â exclaimed Philemon, looking very much alarmed.

âNot I,â replied the servant. ââT is for you to tell it, man, if ât is to be told.â

X A COLONIAL CHRISTMAS 43
âHave done with such mingle-mangle talk,â ordered Mr. Meredith, fretfully. âIs ât not enough to have French
gibberish in the world, withoutââ

âCharles,â interrupted Mrs. Meredith, âwho gave thee this letter?â

âAsk Miss Meredith,â Fownes responded, again smiling.

âIt must be Mr. Evatt,â said Janice. Then as the bond-servant turned sharply and looked at her, she became
conscious that she was colouring. âI wish there was no such thing as a blush,â she moaned to herself,âa wish
in which no one seeing Miss Meredith would have joined.

ââT was not from Mr. Evatt,â denied the servant.

Without time for thought, Janice blurted out, âThen ât is from you?â and the groom nodded his head.

âWhat nonsense is this?â cried Mr. Meredith. âDost mean to say ât is from ye? Whence came the picture?â

âI was the limner,â replied Charles.

âWhat clanker have we here?â exclaimed the squire.

ââT is no lie, Mr. Meredith,â answered the servant. âIn England Iâve drawn many a face, and ât was even said
in jest that I might be a poor devil of an artist if ever I quitted the serâquitted service.â

âAnd where got ye the colours?â

âWhen I went to Princeton with the shoats I found Mr. Peale painting Dr. Witherspoon, and he gave me the
paints and the ivory.â

âYeâll say I suppose too that ye wrote this,â demanded the squire, indicating the letter.

âIâll not deny it.â

âThough ye could not sign the covenant?â

Fownes once more shrugged his shoulders. ââT is a fool would sign a bond,â he asserted.

âBetter a fool than a knave,â retorted Mr. Meredith, angered by Charlesâ manner. âJanice, give the rogue back
the letter and picture. No daughter of Lambert Meredith accepts gifts from her fatherâs bond-servants.â

The man flushed, while evidently struggling to control his temper, and Janice, both in pity for him, as well as
in desire for possession of the picture, for gifts were rare indeed in those days, beggedâ

âOh, dadda, maynât I keep it?â

âMr. Meredith,â said Charles, speaking with evident repression, âthe present was given only with the
respectââ he hesitated as if for words and then continuedââthe respect a slave might owe hisâhis better. Surely
on this day it should be accepted in the same spirit.â

âWhat day mean ye?â asked Mr. Meredith.

X A COLONIAL CHRISTMAS 44
The servant glanced at each face with surprise on his own. When he read a question in all, he asked in turn,
âHast forgotten ât is Christmas?â

Mrs. Meredith, who was still holding the portrait, dropped it on the floor, as if it were in some manner
dangerous. âChristmas!â she cried. âJanice, donât thee dare touch theââ

âOh, mommy, please,â beseeched the girl.

âTake it away, Charles,â ordered Mrs. Meredith. âAnd never let me hear of thy being the devilâs deputy
again. Weâll have no papish mummery at Greenwood.â

The servant sullenly stooped, picked up the slip of ivory without a word, and turned to leave the room. But as
he reached the door, Philemon found tongue.

âIâll trade that âere for the fowlinâ-piece you set such store by,â he offered.

The bondsman turned in the doorway and spoke bitterly. âThis is to be got for no mess of pottage, if it is
scorned,â he said.

âI donât scornââ began Janice, but her father broke in there.

âGive it me, fellow!â ordered the squire. âNo bond-servant shall have my daughterâs portrait.â

An angry look came into the manâs eyes as he faced his master. âCome and take it, then,â he challenged
savagely, moving a step forward,âan action which for some reason impelled the squire to take a step
backward.

âOh, dadda, donât,â cried Janice, anxiously. âCharles, you would nât!â

Fownes turned to her, with the threat gone from his face and attitude. âThereâs my devilâs temper again, Miss
Janice,â said he, in explanation and apology.

âPlease go away,â implored the girl, and the man went to the door. As he turned to close it, Janice said, ââT
was very pretty, andâandâthank you, just the same.â

The formalism of bygone generations was no doubt conducive to respectful manners, but not to confidential
relations, and her parents knew so little of their daughterâs nature as never to dream that they had occasioned
the first suggestion of tenderness for the opposite sex the young girlâs heart had ever felt. And loveâs flame is
superior to physical law in that, the less ventilation it has, the more fiercely it burns.

XI
ââT IS AN ILL WIND THAT BLOWS NOBODY GOODâ
The next ripple in the Greenwood life was due to more material circumstances, being inaugurated by the
receipt of the Governorâs writ, convening the Assembly of New Jersey. A trivial movement of a petty pawn
on the chess-board of general politics, it nevertheless was of distinct importance in several respects to the
Meredith family. Apparently the call meant only a few weeksâ attendance of the squireâs at Burlington, in the
performance of legislative duties, and Janiceâs going with him to make a return visit to the Drinkers at
Trenton. These, however, were the simplest aspects of the summons, and action by the citizens of Middlesex
County quickly injected a more serious element into the programme.

XI ââT IS AN ILL WIND THAT BLOWS NOBODY GOODâ 45

The earliest evidence of this was the summoning by the Committee of Observation and Correspondence of a
gathering to âinstructâ the county representatives how they should vote on the question as to indorsing or
disapproving the measures of the recent Congress. The notice of the meeting was read aloud by the Rev. Mr.
McClave before his morning sermon one Sunday, and then he preached long and warmly from 2 Timothy, ii.
25,ââInstructing those that oppose themselves,â âthe purport of his argument being the duty of the whole
community to join hands in resisting the enemies of the land. The preacher knew he was directly antagonising
the views of his wealthiest parishioner and the father of his would-be wife, but that fact only served to make
him speak the more forcefully and fervently. However hard and stern the old Presbyterian faith was, its
upholders had the merit of knowing what they believed, and of stating that belief without flinch or waver.

[Illustration: âIt flatters thee.â]

As he sat and listened, not a little of the squireâs old Madeira found its way into his face, and no sooner were
the family seated in the sleigh than the wine seemed to find expression in his tongue as well.

ââT is the last time I set foot in your church, Mrs. Meredith,â he declared, loudly enough to make it evident
that he desired those filing out of the doors to hear. âNever before have Iâ"

âHold thy tongue, Lambert!â interrupted Mrs. Meredith, in a low voice. âDost think to make a scene on the
Sabbath?â

âThen let your parson hold his,â retorted Mr. Meredith, but like a well-trained husband, in so low a voice as to
be inaudible to all but the occupants of the sleigh. âGe wug, Joggles! What is the land coming to, when such
doctrines are preached in the pulpits; when those in authority are told ât is their duty to do what the riff-raff
think best? As well let their brats and bunters tell us what to do. Theyâll not force me to attend their meeting,
nor to yield a jot.â

In fulfilment of his assertion, the squire sat quietly at home on the afternoon that the popular opinion of the
county sought to voice itself, nodding his head over a volume of âHaleâs Compleat Body of Husbandry.â But
as night drew near he was roused from his nap by the riding up of Squire Hennion and Philemon. Let it be
confessed that, despite Mr. Meredithâs contempt for what he styled the âmobocracy,â his first question
concerned the meeting.

âA pooty mess yerâve made of it, Meredith,â growled Mr. Hennion.

âI!â cried the squire, indignantly. ââT is naught I had to do with it.â

âAnâ ât is thet âere keepinâ away dun the harm,â scolded the elder Hennion. âSwamp it, yer let the hotheads
control! Had all like yer but attended, they âd never hev bin able to carry some of them âere resolushuns. On
morân one resolve a single vote would hev bin a negative.â

âPooh!â sneered the squire. âSit down and warm thy feet while thee cools thy head, man. Yeâll not get me to
believe that one vote only was needed to prevent âem indorsing the Congress association.â

âSartin they approved the Congress doins, nemine contradicente, as they wuz baound ter do since all aginst
kep away, butââ

âDost mean to say ye voted for it?â demanded Mr. Meredith.

Squire Hennionâs long, shrewd face slightly broadened as he smiled. âI wuz jest stepped over ter the ordinary
ter git a nipperkin of ale when thet ere vote wuz took.â

XI ââT IS AN ILL WIND THAT BLOWS NOBODY GOODâ 46

âWho let the hotheads control, then?â jerked out Mr. Meredith.

ââT ainât no sort of use ter hev my neebours set agin me.â

âAnd yeâll vote at Burlington as they tell ye?â fumed the squire.

âIâm rayther fearsome my rheumatiz will keep me ter hum this winter weather. Iâve had some mortal bad
twinges naow anâ agin.â

âNow damn me!â swore the squire, rising and pacing the room with angry strides. âAnd ye come here to
blame me for neglecting a chance to check âem.â

âI duz,â responded Hennion. âIf I go ter Assembly, ât wonât prevent theer votinâ fer what they wants. But if
yer had attended thet âere meetinâ, we could hev stopped them from votinâ ter git up a militia company anâ
ter buy twenty barrelsââ

âDost mean to say they voted rebellion?â roared Mr. Meredith, halting in his angry stride.

âIt duz hev a squint toward it, theer ainât no denyinâ. But I reckon it wuz baound ter come, vote ay or vote
nay. Fer nigh three months all the young fellers hev been drillinâ pooty regâlar.â

âOh!â spoke up Janice. âThen that âs what Charles meant when he said ât was drill took him to the village.â

âWhat?â demanded the squire. âMy bond-servant?â

âAy. âT is he duz the traininâ, so Phil tells me.â

Mr. Meredith opened the door into the hall, and bawled, âPeg!â Without waiting to give the maid time to
answer the summons he roared the name again, and continued to fairly bellow it until the appearance of the
girl, whom he then ordered to âfind Charles and send him here.â Slightly relieved, he stamped back to the fire,
muttering to himself in his ire.

A pause for a moment ensued, and then the elder Hennion spoke: âWaal, Meredith, hev yer rumpus with yer
servant, but fust off let me say the say ez me and Phil come fer.â

âAnd what âs that?â

âI rayther guess yer know areddy,â continued the father, while the sonâs face became of the colour of the
hickory embers. âMy boy âs in a mighty stew about yer gal, but he canât git the pluck ter tell her; so seemâ he
needed some help an since Iâd come ez far ez Brunswick, says I weâll make one ride of it, anâ over we comes
ter tell yer fair anâ open what heâs hanginâ araound fer.â

Another red face was hurriedly concealed by its owner stooping over her tambour-frame, and Janice stitched
away as if nothing else were worth a second thought. It may be noted, however, that, as a preliminary to
further work the next morning, a number of stitches had to be removed.

âHo, ho!â laughed the squire, heartily, and slapping Phil on the shoulder. âA shy bird, but a sly bird, eh? Oh,
no! Mr. Fox thought the old dogs did n ât know that he wanted little Miss Duck.â

Already in an agony of embarrassment, this speech reduced Phil to still more desperate straits. He could look
at his father only in a kind of dumb appeal, and that individual, seeing his son âs helplessness, spoke again.

XI ââT IS AN ILL WIND THAT BLOWS NOBODY GOODâ 47

âIâd hev left the youngsters ter snook araound till they wuz able ter fix things by themselves,â Mr. Hennion
explained. âBut the times is gittinâ so troublous thet I want ter see Phil sottled, anâ not rampinâ araound as
young fellers will when they hainât got nuthinâ ter keep them hum nights. Anâ so I reckon thet if it ever is ter
be, the sooner the better. Yer gal wonât be the wus off, hevinâ three men ter look aout fer her, if it duz come
on ter blow.â

âWell said!â answered the squire. âWhat say ye, Matilda?â

âOh, dadda,â came an appeal from the tambour-frame, âI donât want to marry. I want to stay at home withââ

âBe quiet, child,â spoke up her mother, âand keep thine opinion to thyself till asked. We know best what is for
thy good.â

âHe, he, he!â snickered the elder Hennion. âGals hainât changed much since I wuz a-courtinâ. They allus
make aout ter be desprit set agin the fellers anâ mortal daown on marryinâ, but, lordy me! if the men held off
the hussies âud do the chasmâ.â

âThee knows, Lambert,â remarked his better half, âthat I think Janice would get more discipline and greater
godliness inââ

âI tell ye he shaânât have her,â broke in the squire. âNo man who preaches against me shall have my daughter;
no, not if ât were Saint Paul himself.â

âFor her eventual good Iââ

âDamn her eventualââ

âI fear ât will come to that.â

âWell, well, Patty, perhaps it will,â acceded the squire. âBut since ât is settled already by foreordination, let
the lass have a good time before it comes. Wouldst rather marry the parson than Phil, Janice?â

âI don ât want to marry any one,â cried the girl, beginning to sob.

âA stiff-necked child thou art,â said her mother, sternly. âDost hear me?â

âYes, mommy,â responded a woful voice.

âAnd dost intend to be obedient?â

âYes, mommy,â sobbed the girl.

âThen if theeâll not give her to the parson, Lambert, ât is best that she marry Philemon. She needs a husband
to rule and chasten her.â

âThen ât is a bargain, Hennion,â said Mr. Meredith, offering a hand each to father and son.

âYer see, Phil, it âs ez I told yer,â cried the elder. âNaow hev dun with yer stand-offishness anâ buss the gal.
Thet âere is the way ter please them.â

XI ââT IS AN ILL WIND THAT BLOWS NOBODY GOODâ 48

Philemon faltered, glancing from one to another, for Janice was bent low over her work and was obviously
weeping,â facts by no means likely to give courage to one who needed that element as much as did the suitor.

âA noodle!â sniggered Mr. Hennion. ââT ainât ter be wondered at thet she donât take ter yer. The jades always
snotter first off but they âd snivel worse if they wuz left spinstersâeh, squire?â

Thus encouraged, Phil shambled across the room and put his hand on the shoulder of the girl. At the first
touch Janice gave a cry of desperation, and springing to her feet she fled toward the hall, her eyes still so full
of tears that she did not see that something more than the door intervened to prevent her escape. In
consequence she came violently in contact with Charles, and though to all appearance he caught her in his
arms only to save her from falling, Janice, even in her despair, was conscious that there was more than mere
physical support. To the girl it seemed as if an ally had risen to her need, and that the momentâs tender clasp
of his arms was a pledge of aid to a sore-stricken fugitive.

"How now!â cried the squire. âHast been listening, fellow?â

âI did not like to interrupt,â said Charles, drily.

âI sent for ye, because Iâm told yeâve been inciting rebellion against the king.â

The man smiled. ââT is little inciting they need,â he answered.

âIs ât true that yeâve been drilling them?â demanded the squire.

âAsk Phil Hennion,â replied the servant.

âWhat mean ye?â

âIf ât is wrong for me to drill, is ât not wrong for him to be drilled?â

âHow?â once more roared the squire. âDost mean to say that Phil has been drilling along with the other
villains?â

âNaow, naow, Meredith,â spoke up the elder Hennion. âBoys will be boys, yer know, anâââ

âThatâs enough,â cried the father. âIâll have no man at Greenwood who takes arms against our good king. Is
there no loyalty left in the land?â

âNaow look here, Meredith,â Mr. Hennion argued. âTheer ainât no occasion fer such consarned highty-tighty
airs. Yer canât keep boys from beinâ high-sperited. What âs moreââ

âHigh-spirited!â snapped the squire. âIs that the name ye give rebellion, Justice Hennion?â

âThet âere is jest what I wuz a-cominâ ter, Meredith,â went on his fellow-justice. âFust off I wuz hot agin his
consarninâ himself, anâ tried ter hold him back, but, lordy me! young blood duz love fightinâ, anâ with all the
young fellows possest, anâ all the gals admirinâ, I might ez well a-tried ter hold a young steer. So, says I, ât is
the hand of Providence, fer no man kin tell ez what âs ahead of us. There ainât no good takinâ risks, anâ so
Iâll side in with the one side, anâ let Phil side in with tâ other, anâ then whatsomever comes, ât will make no
differ ter us. Naow, ef the gal kin come it over Phil ter quit traininâ, all well anâ good, anâââ

XI ââT IS AN ILL WIND THAT BLOWS NOBODY GOODâ 49

âIâll tell ye what I think of ye,â cried Mr. Meredith. âThat yeâre a precious knave, and Phil âs a precious fool,
and I want no more of either of ye at Greenwood.â

âNow, squire,â began Phil, âât ainâtââ

âDonât attempt to argue!â roared Mr. Meredith. âI say the thing is ended. Get out of my house, the pair of
ye!â and with this parting remark, the speaker flung from the room, and a moment later the door of his office
banged with such force that the whole house shook. Both the elder and younger Hennion stayed for some
time, and each made an attempt to see the squire, but he refused obstinately to have aught to do with them,
and they were finally forced to ride away.

Though many men were anxiously watching the gathering storm, a girl of sixteen laid her head on her pillow
that night, deeply thankful that British regiments were mustering at Boston, and that America, accepting this
as an answer to her appeal, was quietly making ready to argue the dispute with something more potent than
petitions and associations.

XII
A BABE IN THE WOOD
The following morning the squire went to the stable, and after soundly rating Charles for his share in the
belligerent preparation of Brunswick, ordered him, under penalty of a flogging, to cease not only from
exercising the would-be soldiers, but from all absences from the estate âwithout my order or permission.â The
man took the tirade as usual with an evident contempt more irritating than less passive action, speaking for the
first time when at the end of the monologue the master demanded:â

âSpeak out, fellow, and say if ye intend to do as ye are ordered, for if not, over ye go with me this morning to
the sitting of the justices.â

âIâm not the man to take a whipping, that I warn you,â was the response.

âYe dare threaten, do ye?â cried the master. âSaddle Jumper and Daisy, and have âem at the door after
breakfast. One rascal shall be quickly taught what rebellion ends in.â

Fuming, the squire went to his morning meal, at which he announced his intention to ride to Brunswick and
the purport of the trip.

âOh, dadda, heâplease donât!â begged Janice.

âAnd why not, child?â demanded her mother.

âBecause heâoh! he is nât like most bondsmen andââ

âWhat did I tell thee, Lambert?â said Mrs. Meredith.

âNonsense, Matilda,â snorted the squire. âThe lass gave me her word for âtââ

âWord!â ejaculated the wife. âWhat âs a word or anything else whenâSince thee âs sent Phil off, the quicker
thee comes to my mind, and gives her to the parson, the better.â

âWhat mean ye by objecting to this fellow being flogged, Jan?â asked the father.

XII A BABE IN THE WOOD 50

Poor Janice, torn between the two difficulties, subsided, and meekly responded, âIâWell, I donât like to have
things whipped, dadda. But if Charles deserves it, of course heâ heâât is right.â

âThere!â said Mr. Meredith, âye see the lass has the sense of it.â

The subject was dropped, but after breakfast, as the crunch of the horseâs feet sounded, Janice left the spinet
for a moment to look out of the window, and it was a very doleful and pitiful face she took back to her task
five minutes later.

When master and man drew rein in front of the Brunswick Court-house, it was obvious to the least heedful
that something unusual was astir. Although the snow lay deep in front of the building and a keen nip was in
the air, the larger part of the male population of the village was gathered on the green. Despite the chill, some
sat upon the steps of the building, others bestowed themselves on the stocks in front of it, and still more stood
about in groups, stamping their feet or swinging their arms, clearly too chilled to assume more restful
attitudes, yet not willing to desert to the more comfortable firesides within doors.

Ordering the bond-servant to hitch the two horses in the meeting-house shed and then to come to the
court-room, the squire made his way between the loafers on the steps, and attempted to open the door, only to
discover that the padlock was still fast in the staple.

âHow now, Mr. Constable?â he exclaimed, turning, and thus for the first time becoming conscious that every
eye was upon him. âWhat means this?â

The constable, who was one of those seated on the stocks, removed a straw from between his lips, spat at the
pillory post, much as if he were shooting at a mark, and remarked, âI calkerlate yer waanât at the meetinâ,
squire?â

âNot I,â averred Mr. Meredith.

âYer see,â explained the constable, âthey voted that there should nât be no more of the kingâs law till we wuz
more sartin of the kingâs justice, anâ that any feller as opposed that ere resolution wuz ter be held an enemy
ter his country anâ treated as such. That ainât the persition Iâm ambeetious ter hold, anâ so I did nât open the
court-house.â

âWhat?â gasped Mr. Meredith. âAre ye all crazy?â

âMebbe we be,â spoke up one of the listeners, âbut we ainât so crazy by a long sight as him as issued that.â
The speaker pointed at the kingâs proclamation, and then, either to prove his contempt for the symbol of
monarchy, or else to show the constable how much better shot he was, he neatly squirted a mouthful of
tobacco juice full upon the royal arms.

âAnd where are the other justices?â demanded the squire, looking about as if in search of assistance.

âThe old squire anâ the paason wuz at the meetinâ, anâ I guess they knew it âud only be wastinâ time to attend
this pertiklar sittinâ of the court.â

âBelza take them!â cried the squire. âTheyâre a pair of cotswold lions, and Iâll tell it them to their faces,â he
added, alluding to a humorous expression of the day for a sheep. âHere I have a rebellious servant, and Iâd
like to know how Iâm to get warrant to flog him, if there is to be no court. Dost mean to have no law in the
land?â

XII A BABE IN THE WOOD 51

âI guess,â retorted Bagby, âthat if the king wonât regard the law, he canât expect the rest of us to, noways.
What âs sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander, and if there ever was a gander itâs him,ââa mot which
produced a hearty laugh from the crowd.

âAs justice of the peace I order ye to open this door, constable,â called the squire.

The constable pulled out a bunch of keys and tossed it in the snow, saying, ââT ainât fer me to say there
shaânât be no sittinâ of the court, anâ if yer so set on tryinâ, why, try.â

The squire deliberately went down two steps to get the keys, but the remaining six he took at one tumble,
having received a push from one of the loafers back of him which sent his heavy body sprawling in the snow,
his whip, hat, and, worst of all, his wig, flying in different directions. In a moment he had risen, cleared the
snow from his mouth and eyes, and recovered his scattered articles, but it was not so easy to recover his
dignity, and this was made the more difficult by the discovery that the bunch of keys had disappeared.

âWho took those keys?â he roared as soon as he could articulate, but the only reply the question produced was
laughter.

âDonât you wherrit yourself about those keys, squire,â advised Bagby. âThey âre safe stowed where they
wonât cause no more trouble. And since that is done with, weâd like to settle another little matter with you
that we was going to come over to Greenwood about to-day, but seeing as you âre here, I donât see no reason
why it should nât be attended to now.â

âWhatâs that?â snapped the squire.

âThe meeting kind of thought things looked squawlish ahead, and that it would be best to be fixed for it, so I
offered a resolution that the town buy twenty half-barrels of grain, and thatââ

âGrain!â exclaimed the squire. âWhat in the ânation can ye want with grain?â

âAs we are all friends here, Iâll tell you confidential sort, that we put it thataways, so as the resolutions need
nât read too fiery, when they was published in the âGazette.â But the folks all knew as the grain was to be a
black grain, that âs not very good eating.â

âWhy, this is treason!â cried Mr. Meredith. âGunpowder! That âsââ

âYes. Gunpowder,â continued the spokesman, quite as much to the now concentrated crowd as to the
questioner. âWe reckon the time âs coming when weâll want it swingeing bad. And the meeting seemed to
think the same way, for they voted that resolution right off, and appointed me and Phil Hennion and Mr.
Wetman a committee to raise a levy to buy it.â

âThink ye a town meeting can lay a tax levy?â contemptuously demanded Mr. Meredith. âNone but theââ

ââT is nât to be nothing but a voluntary contribution,â interrupted Bagby, grinning broadly, âand no man âs
expected to give more than his proportion, as settled by his last rates.â

âAnâ no man âs expected ter give less, nuther,â said a voice back in the crowd.

âSo if youâve nine pounds seven and four with you, squire,â went on Bagby, âât will save you a special trip
over to pay it.â

XII A BABE IN THE WOOD 52

âIâll see ye all damned first!â retorted the squire, warmly. âWhy donât ye knock me down and take my purse,
and have done with it?â

ââT would be the sensible thing with such a tarnal cross tyke,â shouted some one.

âEverything fair and orderly is the way we work,â continued the committee man. âBut we want that nine
pounds odd, and ât will be odd if we donât get it.â

âYouâll not get it from me,â asserted the squire, turning to walk away.

As he did so, half a dozen hands were laid upon his arms from behind, and he was held so firmly that he could
not move.

âShall we give him a black coat, Joe?â asked some one.

âNo,â negatived Bagby. âLet âs see if being a âbabe in the woodâ wonât be enough to bring him to reason.

The slang term for occupants of the stocks was quite suggestive enough to produce instant result. The squire
was dragged back till his legs were tripped from under him by the frame, the bunch of keys, which suddenly
reappeared, served to unlock the upper board, and before the victim quite realised what had transpired he was
safely fastened in the ignominious instrument. Regrettable as it is to record, Mr. Meredith began to curse in a
manner highly creditable to his knowledge of Anglo-Saxon, but quite the reverse of his moral nature.

So long as the squire continued to express his rage and to threaten the bystanders with various penalties, the
crowd stood about in obvious enjoyment, but anger that only excites amusement in others very quickly burns
itself out, and in this particular case the chill of the snow on which the squire was sitting was an additional
cause for a rapid cooling. Within two minutes his vocabulary had exhausted itself and he relapsed into silence.
The fun being over, the crowd began to scatter, the older ones betaking themselves indoors while the
youngsters waylaid Charles, as he came from hitching the horses, and suggested a drill.

The bondsman shook his head and walked to the squire. âAny orders, Mr. Meredith?â he asked.

âGet an axe and smash thisâthing to pieces.â

âThey would not let me,â replied the man, shrugging his shoulders. âHadst best do as they want, sir. You
canât fight the whole county.â

âIâll never yield,â fumed the master.

Charles again shrugged his shoulders, and walking back to the group, said, âGet your firelocks.â

In five minutes forty men were in line on the green, and as the greatest landholder of the county sat in the
stocks, in a break-neck attitude, with a chill growing in fingers and toes, he was forced to watch a rude and
disorderly attempt at company drill, superintended by his own servant. It was a clumsy, wayward mass of
men, and frequent revolts from orders occurred, which called forth sharp words from the drill-master. These
in turn produced retorts or jokes from the ranks that spoke ill for the discipline, and a foreign officer, taking
the superficial aspect, would have laughed to think that such a system could make soldiers. Further
observation and thought would have checked his amused contempt, for certain conditions there were which
made these men formidable. Angry as they became at Fownes, not one left the ranks, though presence was
purely voluntary, and scarce one of them, ill armed though he might be, but was able to kill a squirrel or quail
at thirty paces.

XII A BABE IN THE WOOD 53

When the drill had terminated, a result due largely to the smell of cooking which began to steal from the
houses facing the green, Charles drew Bagby aside, and after a momentâs talk, the two, followed by most of
the others, crossed to the squire.

âMr. Meredith,â said Charles, âIâve passed my word to Bagby that youâll pay your share if heâll but release
you, and that you wonât try to prosecute him. Wilt back up my pledge?â

The prisoner, though blue and faint with cold, shook his head obstinately.

âThere! I told you how it would be,â sneered Bagby.

âBut I tell you heâll be frosted in another hour. âT will be nothing short of murder, man.â

âThen let him contribute his share,â insisted Bagby.

ââT is unfair to force a man on a principle.â

âLook here,â growled Bagby. âWe are getting tired of your everlasting hectoring and attempting to run
everything. Just because you know something of the manual donât make you boss of the earth.â

The bondsman glanced at the squire, and urged, âCome, Mr. Meredith, you âd better do it. Think how anxious
Mrs. Meredith andâwill be, aside from you probably taking a death cold, or losing a hand or foot.â

At last the squire nodded his head, and without more ado Bagby stooped and unlocked the log. Mr. Meredith
was so cramped that Charles had to almost lift him to his feet, and then give him a shoulder into the public
room of the tavern, where he helped him into a chair before the fire. Then the servant called to the publican:â

âA jorum of sling for Mr. Meredith, and put an extra pepper in it.â

âThat sounds pretty good,â said Bagby. âJust make that order for the crowd, and the squireâll pay for it.â

While the favourite drink of the period was sizzling in the fire, Mr. Meredith recovered enough to pull out his
purse and pay up the debatable levy. A moment later the steaming drink was poured into glasses, and Bagby
said:â

âNow, squire, do the thing up handsome by drinking to the toast of liberty.â

âIâll set you a better toast than that,â offered the bondsman.

ââT ainât possible,â cried one of the crowd.

The servant raised his glass and with an ironical smile said:â

âHere âs to liberty and fair play, gentlemen.â

âThat âs a toast we can all drink,â responded Bagby, âjust as often as some oneâll pay for the liquor.â

XII A BABE IN THE WOOD 54

XIII
THE WORLD IN MINIATURE
The exposure of the squire brought on a sharp attack of the gout which confined him to the house for nigh a
month. Incidentally it is to be noted that his temper during this period was not confined, and when Philemon
appeared one morning he was met with a reception that drove him away without a chance to plead his cause.
Mrs. Meredith and Janice were compelled to listen to many descriptions as to what punitive measures their
particular lord of creation intended to set in motion against the villagers when he should attend the Assembly,
or when King George had reduced the land to its old-time order.

One piece of good fortune the attack brought its victim was its putting him in bed on the particular day
selected for the committee of the town meeting to inform the squire as to the instruction voted by that
gathering for his conduct in the Assembly. In default of an interview, they merely left an attested copy of the
resolution, and had to rest satisfied, without knowing in what way their representative received it. Mrs.
Meredith, Janice, and Peg did not remain in any such doubt.

Another unfortunate upon whom the vials of his wrath were poured out was the parson, who came a-calling
one afternoon. News that he was in the parlour was sufficient to bring Mr. Meredith downstairs prematurely,
where he enacted a high scene, berating the caller, and finally ordering him from the house.

A relapse followed upon the exertion and outburst, but even gout had its limitations, and finally the patient
was sufficiently convalescent for preparations to begin for the journey to Trenton and Burlington.

It did not take Janice long one morning to pack her little leather-covered and brass-nail studded trunk, and,
this done, her conduct became not a little peculiar. After dinner she spent some time in spinet practice, and
then rising announced to the elders that she must pack for the morrowâs journey. Her absence thus explained,
she left the room, only to steal through the kitchen, and catch Sukeyâs shawl from its hook in the passage to
the wood-shed. Regardless of slippers and snow, she then sped toward the concealing hedge, and behind its
friendly protection walked quickly to the stable. The door was rolled back enough to let the girl pass in
quietly, and when she had done so, she glanced about in search of something. For an instant a look of
disappointment appeared on her face, but the next moment, as a faint sound of scratching broke upon her ear,
she stole softly to the feed and harness room, and peeked in.

The groom was sitting on a nail barrel, in front of the meal-bin, the cover of which was closed and was thus
made to serve for a desk. On this were several sheets of what was then called pro patria paper, or foolscap,
and most of these were very much bescribbled. An ink-horn and a sand-box completed the outfit, except for a
quill in the hands of the bond-servant, which had given rise to the sound the girl had heard. Now, however, it
was not writing, for the man was chewing the feather end with a look of deep thought on his face.

âO Clarion,â he sighed, as the girlâs glance was momentarily occupied with the taking in of these details,
âwhy canst thou not give me a word to rhyme with morn? âT will not come, and here ât is the thirteenth.â

A low growl from Clarion, sounding like anything more than the desired rhyme, made the servant glance up,
and the moment he saw the figure of some one, he rose, hastily bunched together the sheets of paper, and
holding them in his hand cried, âWho âs that?â in a voice expressing both embarrassment and anger. Then as
his eyes dwelt on the intruder, he continued in an altered tone, âI ask your pardon, Miss Janice; I thought ât
was one of the servants. They are everlastingly spying on me. Can I serve you?â he added, rolling the papers
up and stuffing them into his belt.

Janiceâs eyes sought the floor, as she hesitatingly said, âI âI came toâto ask a favour of you.â

XIII THE WORLD IN MINIATURE 55

ââT is but for you to name,â replied the man, eagerly.

âWill you let meâI wantâI should like Tibbie to see theâthe picture of me, and I wondered ifâif you would let
me take it to TrentonâIâll bring it back, you know, andââ

âAh, Miss Janice,â exclaimed the servant, as the girl halted, âif you âd but take it as a gift, ât would pleasure
me so!â While he spoke, without pretence of concealment he unbuttoned the top button of his shirt and taking
hold of a string about his neck pulled forth a small wooden case, obviously of pocket-knife manufacture.
Snapping the cord, he offered its pendant to Janice.

âIâI would keep it, Charles,â replied Janice, âbut you know mommy told meââ

âAnd what right has she to prevent you?â broke in Charles, warmly. âIt does her no wrong, nor can it harm
you to keep it. What right have they to tyrannise over you? âT is all of a piece with their forcing you to marry
that awkward, ignorant put. Here, take it.â The groom seized her hand, put the case in her palm, closed her
fingers over, and held them thus, as if striving to make her accept the gift.

âOh, Charles,â cried the girl, very much flustered, âyou should nât askââ

âAh, Miss Janice,â he begged, âwonât you keep it? They need never know.â

âBut I only wanted to show it to Tibbie,â explained the girl, âto ask her if mommy was right when she said ât
was monstrous flattered.â

ââT is an impossibility,â responded the man, earnestly, though he was unable to keep from slightly smiling at
the unconscious naïveté of the question. âI would she could see it in a more befitting frame, to set it off. If
thou ât but let me, Iâd put it in the other setting. Then ât would show to proper advantage.â

âWould it take long?â

âA five minutes only.â

The girl threw open the shawl, and thrusting her hand under her neckerchief into the V-cut of her bodice,
produced the miniature.

The servant recoiled a step as she held it out to him. Then snatching rather than taking the trinket from her
hand, he said, âThat is no place for this.â

âWhy not?â asked Janice.

âBecause she is unfit to rest there,â cried the man. He pulled out a knife, and with the blade pried up the rim,
and shook free the protective glass and slip of ivory. âNow ât is purged of all wrong,â he said, touching the
setting to his lips. âI would it were for me to keep, for ât has lain near your heart, and ât is still warm with
happiness.â

The speech and act so embarrassed Janice that she hurriedly said, âI really must nât stay. Iâve been too long as
ât is, andââ

ââT will take but a moment,â the servant assured her hastily. âWilt please give me tâ other one?â Throwing
the miniature he had taken from the frame on the floor, he set about removing that of Janice from its wooden
casing and fitting it to its new setting.

XIII THE WORLD IN MINIATURE 56

âDonât,â cried Janice, in alarm, stooping to pick up the slip of ivory. ââT is not owing to you that ât was nât
spoiled,â she added indignantly, after a glance at it.

âSmall loss if ât were!â responded the man, bitterly. âPromise me, Miss Janice, that youâll not henceforth
carry it in your bosom?â

ââT is a monstrous strange thing to ask.â

âI tell thee sheâs not fit to rest near a pure heart.â

âHow know you that?â

âHow know I?â cried the man, in amazement. âWhyââ There he stopped and knit his brows.

âI knew thou wert deceiving us when thee said ât was not thine,â charged the girl.

âNay, Miss Janice, ât was the truth I told you, though a quibble, I own. The miniature never was mine, thoâ ât
was once in my possession.â

âThen how came you by it?â

âI took it by force fromânever mind whom.â The old bitter look was on the manâs face, and anger burned in
his eyes.

âYou stole it!â cried the girl, drawing away from him.

âNot I,â denied the man. ââT was taken from one who had less right to ât than I.â

âYou knew her?â questioned the girl.

âAy,â cried the man, with a kind of desperation. âI should think I did!â

âAndâand youâyou loved her?â she asked with a hesitancy which might mean that she was in doubt whether
to ask the question, or perhaps that she rather hoped her surmise would prove wrong.

The young fellow halted in his work of trimming the ivory to fit the frame, and for a moment he stood,
apparently looking down at his half-completed job, as it lay on the top of the meal-box. Then suddenly he put
his hand to his throat as if he were choking, and the next instant he leaned forward, and, burying his face in
his arms, as they rested on the whilom desk, he struggled to stifle the sobs that shook his frame.

âOh, I did nât mean to pain you!â she cried in an agony of guilt and alarm.

Charles rose upright, and dashing his shirt sleeve across his eyes, he turned to the girl. ââT is over, Miss
Janice,â he asserted, âand a great baby I was to give way to ât.â

âI can understand, and I donât think ât was babyish,â said Janice, her heart wrung with sympathy for him.
âShe is so lovely!â

The manâs lips quivered again, despite of his struggle to control himself. âThat she is,â he groaned. âAnd IâI
loved herâMy God! how I loved her! I thought her an angel from heaven; she was everything in life to me.
When I fled from London, it seemed as if my heart wasâwas dead for ever.â

XIII THE WORLD IN MINIATURE 57

âShe was untrue?â asked Janice, with a deep sigh.

The servantâs face darkened. âSo untrueâAh! âT is not to be spoken. The two of them!â

âYou challenged and killed him!â surmised Janice, excitedly. âAnd thatâs why you came to America.â

The groom shook his head sadly. âNot that, Miss Janice. They robbed me of both honour and revenge. I was
powerless to punish eitherâexcept byâBah! Iâve done with them for ever.â

âFoh mussyâs sakes, chile,â came Sukeyâs voice, âwhat youse damâ hyar? Run quick, honey, foh your mah is
âquirinâ foh youse.â

âOh, Luddy!â cried the girl, reaching out for the miniature.

ââT is not done, but Iâll see to ât that you get it this evening,â exclaimed Charles.

The girl turned and fled toward the house, closely followed by Sukey.

âPeg she come to de kitchen foh youse,â the cook explained; âanâ âcause I dun see youse go out de back doâ,
I specks whar youse gwine, anâ I sens her back to say dat young missus helpinâ ole Sukey, anâ be in pretty
quick, anâ so dey never know.â

âOh, Sukey, youâre a dear!â

âBut, missy dear, doan youse do nuthinâ foolish âbout dat fellah, âcause I âse helped youse. Doan youseââ

âOf course I wonât,â asserted the girl. âI could nât, Sukey. You know I couldnât.â

âDat âs right, honey. Ole Sukey knows she can trust youse. Now run right along, chile.â

âWhat have you been doing, Janice?â asked her mother, as the girl entered the parlour.

âIâve been in the kitchen with Sukey, mommy,â replied Janice. And if there was wrong in the quibble, both
father and mother were equally to blame with the girl, for âOle Sukeyâ was actually better able to enter into
her feelings and thoughts than either of them; and where obedience is enforced from authority and not from
sympathy and confidence, there will be secret deceit, if not open revolt.

Left to himself, the bondsman finished trimming the ivory to a proper size, and neatly fitted it into the frame.
Then he spread the papers out, and in some haste, for the winterâs day was fast waning, he resumed his
scribbling, varied by intervals of pen-chewing and knitting of brows. Finally he gave a sigh of relief, and
taking a blank sheet he copied in a bold hand-writing what was written on the paper he had last toiled over.
Then picking up the miniature, he touched it to his lips. âShe was sent to give me faith again in women,â he
said, as he folded the miniature into the paper.

âWell, old man,â he remarked, as he passed from the stable, to the dog, who had followed in his footsteps, and
sought to attract his attention by fawning upon him, âhas blindmanâs holiday come at last? Wait till I bestow
this, and get a bite from Sukey to put in my pocket, and weâll be off for a look at the rabbits. âT is a poor
sport, but ât will do till something better comes. Oh for a war!â

The bondsman passed into the kitchen, and made his plea to Sukey for a supper he could take away with him.
The request was granted, and while the cook went to the larder to get him something, Charles stepped into the

XIII THE WORLD IN MINIATURE 58

hall and listening intently he stole upstairs and tapped gently on a door. Getting no reply, he opened it, and
tiptoeing hastily to the dressing-stand, he tucked the packet under the powder-box. A minute later he was back
in the kitchen, and erelong was stamping through the snow, whistling cheerfully, which the hound echoed by
yelps of excited delight.

Janice was unusually thoughtful all through supper, and little less so afterwards. She was sent to her room
earlier than usual, that she might make up in advance for the early start of the journey, and she did not dally
with her disrobing, the room being almost arctic in its coldness. But after she had put on the short night-rail
that was the bed-gown of the period, the girl paused for a moment in front of her mirror, even though she
shivered as she did so.

âI really thought ât was for me he cared,â she said. âBut she is so much more beautiful thatââ Janice tucked
the flyaway locks into the snug-fitting nightcap, which together with the bed-curtains formed the protections
from the drafts inevitable to leaky windows and big chimneys, and having thus done her best to make herself
ugly, she blew out her candle, and as she crept into bed, she remarked, ââT was very foolish of me.â

XIV
A QUESTION CONCERNING THALIA
All was animation at Greenwood the next morning, while yet it was dark, and as Janice dressed by
candle-light, she trembled from something more than the icy chill of the room. The girl had been twice in her
life to New York, once each to Newark and to Burlington, and though her visits to Trenton were of greater
number, the event was none the less too rare an occurrence not to excite her. Her mother had to order her
sharply to finish what was on her plate at breakfast, or she would scarce have eaten.

âIf thou dost not want to be frozen, lass, before we get to Trenton,â warned the squire, âdo as thy mother says.
Stuff cold out of the stomach, or ât is impossible to keep the scamp out of the blood.â

âYes, dadda,â said the girl, obediently falling to once more. After a few mouthfuls she asked, âDadda, who
was Thalia?â

"âT was a filly who won the two-year purse at the Philadelphia races in sixty-eight,â the squire informed her,
between gulps of sausage and buckwheat cakes.

âWas she very lovely?â asked Janice, in a voice of surprise.

âNo. An ill-shaped mare, but with a great pace.â

The girl looked thoughtful for a moment and then asked, âIs that the only one there is?â

âOnly what?â demanded her mother.

âThe only Thalia?â

ââT is the only one Iâve heard of,â said the squire.

âThou ârt wrong, Lambert,â corrected his spouse, in wifely fashion. ââT was one of those old heathens with
horns, or tail, or something, I forget exactly. What set thy mind on that, child? Hast been reading some
romance on the sly?â

XIV A QUESTION CONCERNING THALIA 59

âNo, mommy,â denied the girl.

âPut thy thoughts to better uses, then,â ordered the mother. âThink more of thy own sin and corruption and
less of what is light and vain.â

It had been arranged that Thomas was to drive the sleigh, the squire preferring to leave Fownes in care of the
remaining horses. It was Charles, however, who brought down the two trunks, and after he had put them in
place he suggested, âIf youâll take seat, Miss Janice, Iâll tuck you well in.â Spreading a large bearskin on the
seat and bottom of the sleigh, he put in a hot soapstone, and very unnecessarily took hold of the little slippered
feet, and set them squarely upon it, as if their owner were quite unequal to the effort. Then he folded the robe
carefully about her, and drew the second over that, allowing the squire, it must be confessed, but a scant
portion for his share.

âThank you, Charles,â murmured the girl, gratefully. âOf course heâs a bond-servant and he has a horrid
beard,â she thought, âbut it is nice to have some one toâto think of your comfort. If he were only Philemon!â

The bondsman climbed into the rear of the sleigh, that he might fold the back part of the skin over her
shoulders. The act brought his face close to the inquirer, and she turned her head and whispered, âWho was
Thalia?â

ââT was one ofââ

âCharles, get out of that sleigh,â ordered Mrs. Meredith, sharply. âLearn thy place, sir. Janice, thou ârt quite
old enough to take care of thyself. Weâll have no whispering or coddling, understand.â

The bondsman sullenly obeyed, and a moment later the sleigh started. The servant looked wistfully after it
until the sound of the bells was lost, and then, with a sigh, he went to his work.

With all the vantage of the daylight start, it took good driving among the drifts to get over the twenty-eight
miles that lay between Greenwood and Trenton before the universal noon dinner, and as the sleigh drew up at
the Drinkersâ home on the main street of the village, the meal was in the air if not on the table.

[Illustration: âYou set me free.â]

For this reason the two girls had not a chance for a momentâs confidence before dinner; and though Janice
was fairly bursting with all that had happened since Tibbieâs visit, the departure of the squire for Burlington
immediately the meal was ended, and the desire of Tabithaâs father and aunt to have news of Mrs. Meredith
and of the doings âup Brunswick way,â filled in the whole afternoon till tea timeâif the misnomer can be used,
for, unlike the table at Greenwood, tea was a tabooed article in the Drinker home. One fact worth noting about
the meal was that Janice asked if any of them knew who Thalia was.

âAy,â said Mr. Drinker, âand the less said of her the better. She was a lewd creature thatââ

âMr. Drinker!â cried Tabithaâs aunt. âThee forgets there are gentlewomen present. Wilt have some preserve,
Janice?â

âNo, I thank you,â said the girl. âIâm not hungry.â And she proved it by playing with what was on her plate
for the rest of the meal.

Not till the two girls retired did they have an opportunity to exchange confidences. The moment they were by
themselves, Tabitha demanded, âWhat made thee so serious to-night?â

XIV A QUESTION CONCERNING THALIA 60

âOh, Tibbie,â sighed Janice, dolefully,â Iâm very unhappy!â

âWhat over?â

âIâheâCharlesâIâm afraid heâand yetââT is something he wrote, but whether in joke orâMr. Evatt said he
insulted me at the tavernâYet ât is so pretty thatâand mommy interrupted justââ

âWhat art thou talking about, Jan?â exclaimed Tibbie.

Janice even in her disjointed sentences had begun to unlace her travelling bodice,âfor with a prudence almost
abnormal this one frock was not cut low,âand she now produced from her bosom a paper which she unfolded,
and then offered to Tibbie with a suggestion of hesitation, asking âDost think he meant to insult me?â

Tabitha eagerly took the sheet, and readâ

TO THALIA

These lines to her my passion tell,

Describe the empire of her spell;
A love which naught will eâer dispel,

That flames for sweetest Thalia.

The sun that brights the fairest morn,

The stars that gleam in Capricorn,
Do not so much the skies adorn

As does my lovely Thalia.

The tints with which the rose enchants,

The fragrance which the violet grants;
Each doth suggest, but neâer supplants,

The charms of dainty Thalia.

To gaze on her is sweet delight:

âT is heaven wheneâer she 's in my sight,
But when sheâs gone, ât is endless nightâ

All âs dark without my Thalia.

I vow to her, by God above,

By hope of life, by depth of love,
That from her side I neâer will rove,

So much love I my Thalia.

âHow monstrous pretty!â cried Tabitha. âIâm sure he meant it rightly.â

âI thought ât was a beautiful valentine,â sighed Janice,â âand ât was the first I ever hadâbut dadda says she
was an ill-shaped mareâand mommy says ât was something with a tailâand ât is almost as bad to have her a

XIV A QUESTION CONCERNING THALIA 61

wicked womanâ so Iâm feared he meant it in jokeâor worseââ

âI donât believe it,â comforted Tibbie. âHe may have made a mistake in the name, but Iâm sure he meant it;
that heâwellâthee knows. And if thee copies it fair, and puts in âDelia,â or âCelia,â ât will do to show to the
girls. I wish some one would send me such a valentine.â

Made cheerful by her friendâs point of view, Janice went on with more spirit,â

âNor is that the end.â She took from her trunk a handkerchief and unwrapping it, produced the unset
miniature. âHe let me keep it,â she said.

âHow mighty wonderful!â again exclaimed Tibbie, growing big-eyed. âWhoââ

âFurthermore, and in continuation, as Mr. McClave always says after his ninthly,â airily interrupted Janice,
drawing from her bosom the portrait of herself. âWho âs that, Tibbie Drinker?â

âJanice!â cried the person so challenged. âHow lovely! WhoâDid Mr. Peale come to Greenwood?â

âNot he. Who, think you, did it?â

âI vow if I can guess.â

âCharles!

âNo!â gasped Tibbie, properly electrified. âThee is cozening me.â

âNot for a moment,â cried Janice, delightedly.

âTell me everything about allâ was Tabithaâs rapturous demand.

It took Janice many minutes, and Tibbie was called upon to use many exclamation and question marks, ere the
tale of all these surprises was completed. Long before it had come to a finish, the two girls were snuggled
together in bed, half in real love, as well as for the mutual animal heat, and half that they might whisper the
lower. The facts, after many interruptions and digressions, having been narrated, Janice asked,â

âWhom, think you, Charles loves, Tibbie?â

"âT is very strange! From his valentine and miniature I should think ât was thee. But from what he told theeâ"

ââT is exactly that which puzzles me.â

âOh, Janice! HeâPerhaps thee was right. He may be a villain who is trying to beguile thee.â

âFor what couldâThen why should he tell me about her?â

âThatâwellâât is beyond me.â

âIfât had not been for coming away, Iâthat isââ The girl hesitated and then said, âTibbie?â

âWhat?â

XIV A QUESTION CONCERNING THALIA 62

âDost thinkâI meanââ The girl drew her bedfellow closer, and in an almost inaudible voice asked, âWould it
be right, think youâwhen I go back, you knowâtoâto encourage himâthat is, to give him a chance to tell meâso
as to find out?â

The referee of this important question was silent for long enough to give a quality of consideration to her
opinion, and then decided, âI think thee shouldst. âT is a question that thou hast a right to know about.â
Having given the ruling, this most upright judge changed her manner from one conveying thought to one
suggesting eagerness, and asked, âOh, Janice, if he doesâif thee finds out anything, wilt thee tell it me?â

âOught I?â asked Janice, divided between the pleasure of monopolising a secret and the enjoyment of sharing
it.

âSurely thee ought,â cried Tabitha. âAfter telling me so much, thou shouldstâfor Charlesâ sake. Otherwise I
might misjudge him.â

âThen Iâll tell you everything,â cried Janice, clearly happy in the decision.

âAnd if he does love you, Jan?â suggestively remarked Tibbie.

ââT will be vastly exciting,â said Janice. âYou know, Tibbie, it frightens me a little, for heâs just the kind of
man to do something desperate.â

âAndâand you would nâtââ

âTibbie Drinker! A redemptioner!â

âBut Janice, he must have been a gentleââ

âWhat he was, little matters,â interrupted the girl. âHeâs a bond-servant now, and even if he were nât, heâd
have a bristly beardâUgh!â

âPoor fellow,â sighed Tabitha. ââT is not his fault!â

âNor is ât mine,â retorted Janice.

A pause of some moments followed and then Janice asked: âDost think I am promised to Mr. Evatt,
Tibbie?ââfor let it be confessed that every incident of what she had pledged herself not to tell had been poured
out to her confidant.

âI think so,â whispered the girl, âand he being used to court ways would surely know.â

âHe âsâwell, heâs a fine figure of a man,â owned Janice. âAnd thoâ I neâer intended it, Iâd rather ât would be
he than Philemon Hennion or the parson.â

âWhat if thy father and mother should not consent?â said Tabitha.

ââT would be lovely!â cried Janice, ecstatically. âJust like a romance, you know. And being court-bred, heâd
know how toâwellâhow to give it éclat. Oh, Tibbie, think of making a runaway match and of going to
court!â

XIV A QUESTION CONCERNING THALIA 63

Much as Tabitha loved her friend, the little green-eyed monster gained possession of her momentarily. âHe
may be deceiving thee,â she suggested. âPerhaps he never was there.â

âNay. He knows all the titled people. He was at one of Lady Graftonâs routs, Tibbie, and was spoke to by the
Duke of Cumberland!â

For a man falsely to assert acquaintance with a royal duke seemed so impossible to the girl that this was
accepted as indisputable proof; driven from her first position, Tibbie remarked, âPerhaps he wonât return.
Many âs the maid been cozened and deserted by the men.â

For a moment, either because this idea did not please Janice or because she needed time to digest it, there was
silence.

âOh, Janice,â sighed Tibbie, presently, âât is almost past belief that thee has had so much happen to thee.â

But a few weeks before the girl thought the chief part of her experiences the most cruel luck that had ever
befallen maiden. Yet so quickly does youth put trouble in the past, and so respondent is it to the romantic
view of things, that she now promptly answered,â

âIs ât not, Tibbie! Am I not a lucky girl? If I only was certain about Thalia, I should be so happy.â

XV
QUESTIONS OF DELICACY
Of the time Janice spent at Trenton little need be said. Compared with Greenwood, the town was truly almost
riotous. Neither Presbyterian nor Quaker approved of dancing, and so the regular weekly assemblies were
forbidden fruit to the girls, and Janice and Tibbie were too well born to be indelicately of the throng who
skated long hours on Assanpink Creek, or to take part in the frequent coasting-parties. But of other
amusements they had, in the expression of the day, âa great plenty.â Four teas,âbut without that particular
beverage,âtwo quilting-bees, one candy-pulling and one corn-popping, three evenings at singing-school, and a
syllabub party supplied such ample social dissipation to Janice that life seemed for the time fairly to whirl.

Not the least of the excitement, it must be confessed, was the conquest by Janice of a young Quaker cousin of
Tabithaâs named Penrhyn Morris. Two other of the Trenton lads, too, began to behave in a manner so
suspicious to the girls as to call for much discussion. Tibbie as well had several swains, who furnished still
further subjects of conversation after sleeping hours had come. Several times sharp reproofs were shouted
through the partition from Miss Drinkerâs room, but the whispering only sank in tone and not in volume.

One incident not to be omitted was the appearance of Philemon, nominally on business, in Trenton; but he
called upon the Drinkers, and remained to dinner when asked. He stayed on and on after that meal, wearying
the two girls beyond measure by the necessity of maintaining a conversation, until, just as the desperation
point was reached, Tibbie introduced a topic which had an element of promise in it.

âHast thou seen Charles Fownes of late?â she asked of the mute awkward figure; and though Janice did not
look up, there was a momentâs flicker of her eyelashes.

âAll I wants ter,â said Phil, sulkily. âAnâ I guess that ereâs the feelinâ pretty generally.â

âWhy?â demanded Tabitha, after a glance at Janice.

XV QUESTIONS OF DELICACY 64
ââCause of the airs he takes. He called me a put because I was a bit slowâter his mindâin learninâ the manual,
anâ heâs got a tongue anâ a temper like a hedgehog. But the fellers paid him off come Saturday week.â

âHow?â asked Janice, dropping her pose of indifference.

âHe âs been expectinâ ter be appointed captain of the Brunswick Invincibles, when they was trained, but he
put on such airs, anâ was so sharp anâ bitinâ with his tongue, that when they voted for officers last week Iâll
be dinged if they did nât drop him altogether. He did nât get a vote for so much as a corporalâs rank. He was
in a stew, I tells you.â

âWhat did he do?â questioned Tabitha.

âHe was so took aback,â snickered Philemon, âthat he up and says ât was the last heâd have ter do with âem,
anâ that they was a lot of clouts anâ clodpates, anâ they âd got a captain ter match.â

âWas that you?â cruelly asked Janice.

âNo. âT was Joe Bagby,â replied Phil, not so much as seeing the point.

âThe village loafer and neâer-do-weel,â exclaimed Janice, reflecting her fatherâs view.

âHe ainât idlinâ much these-a-days,â asserted Philemon, âand the boys all like him for his jokes anâ
good-nature. I tell you ât was great sport ter see him anâ your redemptioner give it ter each other. Fownes, he
said that if ât were nât better sport ter catch rabbits, heâd mightily enjoy chasmâ the whole company of
Invincibles with five grenadiers of the guard, anâ Bagby he sassed back by sayinâ that Charles need nât be so
darned cocky, for heâd run from the regulars hisself, anâ then your man tells Joe ter give his red rag a holiday
by talkinâ about what he knowâd of, for then heâd have ter be silent, anâ then the captain says he was a liar,
and Charles knocks him down, anâ stood over him and made him take it back. Anâ Bagby he takes it back,
sayinâ as how his own words was very good eatinâ anyways. I tell you, the whole town enjoyed that âere
afternoon.â

âI suppose they made you an officer?â said Miss Meredith, with unconcealed contempt.

âNo, Miss Janice,â Philemon eagerly denied, âanâ that âs what I come over to tell you. Seemâ that you anâ the
squire did nât like my drillinâ, Iâve left the company, an I wonât go back, I pass you my word.â

ââT is nothing to me what you do,â responded Janice, crushingly.

âDonât say that, Miss Janice,â entreated Phil.

âIs thee not ashamed,â exclaimed Tabitha, âto seek to marry a girl against her wishes? If I were Janice, Iâd
never so much as look at thee.â

âShe never said as how sheââ stammered Hennion.

âThat was nothing,â continued Tibbie. âThee shouldst have known it. The idea of asking the father first!â

âBut that âs the regular way,â ejaculated Phil, in evident bewilderment.

âTo marry a girl when she does nât choose to!â snapped Tibbie. âA man of any decency would find outâon
the slyâif she wanted him.â

XV QUESTIONS OF DELICACY 65
âShe never wouldââ

âAs if the fact that she would nât was nât enough!â continued Tibbie, with anything but Quaker meekness.
âDost think, if she wanted thee, sheâd have been so offish?â

Phil, with a sadly puzzled look on his face, said, âI know I ainât much of a sharp at courtinâ, Miss Janice, anâ
like as not I done it wrong, but I loves you, that âs certain, anâ I would nât do anything ter displeasure you, if I
only knowâd what you wanted. Dad he says that I was nât rampageous enough ter suit a girl of spirit, anâ that
if Iâd squoze you now anâ again, âstead ofââ

âThat âs enough,â said Janice. âMr. Hennion, there is the door.â

âThou art a horrid creature!â added Tibbie.

âI ainât goinâ till Iâve had it all out with you,â asserted Phil, with a dogged determination.

âThen you force us to leave you,â said Janice, rising.

Just as she spoke, the door was thrown open, and Mr. Meredith entered. His eye happened to fall first on
Philemon, and without so much as a word of greeting to the girls, he demanded angrily, âHo! what the devil
are ye doing here? âT is all of a piece that a traitor to his king should work by stealth.â

Even the worm turns, and Philemon, already hectored to desperation by the girls, gave a loose to his sense of
the wrong and injustice that it seemed to him every one conspired to heap upon him. âIâve done no
hugger-muggery,â he roared, shaking his fist in the squireâs face, âanâ the man âs a tarnal liar who says I
have.â

âDonât try to threaten me, sir!â roared back the squire, but none the less retiring two steps. âYour fatherâs son
canât bully Lambert Meredith. But for his cowardice, and others like him, but for the men of all sides and no
side, weâd have prevented the Assemblyâs approving the damned resolves of the Congress. Marry a daughter
of mine! Iâll see ye and your precious begetter in hell first. Donât let me find ye snooking about my girl
henceforth, or ât will fare ill with ye that I warn ye.â

âIf ât war nât that you are her father anâ an old man, Iâd teach you a lesson,â growled Phil, as he went to the
door; âas ât is, look out for yourself. You has enemies enough without makinâ any more.â

âThereâs a good riddance to him,â chuckled the squire. âWell, hast a kiss for thy dad, Jan?â

âA dozen,â responded the girl. âBut what brought you back? Surely the Assembly has not adjourned?â

ââT is worse than that,â asserted the squire. âFor a week we held the rascals at bay, but yesterday news came
from England that the ministry had determined not to yield, and in a frenzy the Assembly indorsed the
Congressâs doings on the spot. As a consequence this morning the kingâs governor dissolved us, and the writs
will shortly be out for a new election. So back I must get me to Brunswick to attend to my poll. I bespoke a
message to Charles by Squire Perkins, who rid on to Morristown, telling him to be here with the sleigh
to-morrow as early as he could; and meanwhile must trust to some Trenton friend or to the tavern for a bed, if
thy father, Tabitha, canât put me up.â

Charles reported to the squire at an hour the following morning which indicated either a desire for once to
please his master, or some other motive, for an obedience so prompt must have necessitated a moonlight start
from Greenwood in order to reach Trenton so early. He was told to bait his horses at the tavern, and the time

XV QUESTIONS OF DELICACY 66
this took was spent by the girls in repeating farewells.

ââT is a pity thee hast to go before Friend Penrhyn hath spoken,â said Tibbie, regretfully.

âIs nât it?â sighed Janice. âI did so want to see how heâd say it.â

âYou mayâperhaps Charlesââ brokenly but suggestively remarked Tibbie.

âPerhaps,â responded Janice, âbut ât will be very different. I know heâllâwell, heâll be abrupt andâand
excited, and willâhis sentences will not be well thought out before-hand. Now Penrhyn would have spoken at
length and feelingly. âT would have been monstrously enjoyable.â

âAt least theeâll find out who Thalia is.â

âOh, Tibbie, I fear me I shaânât dare. I tried to ask Mr. Taggart, who, being college-bred, ought to know, but I
was so afraid she was a wicked woman, that I began to blush before Iâd so much as got out the first word. I
wish I was pale and delicate like Prissy Glover. âT is mortifying to be so healthy.â

âThy waist is at least two inches smaller than hers, when ât is properly laced.â

âBut I have red cheeks,â moaned Janice,â and, oh, Tibbie, at times I have such an appetite!â

âOh, Jan! so have I,â confided Miss Drinker in the lowest of whispers, as if fearing even the walls.
âSometimes when the men are round, Iâd eat twice as much but for the fear they âd think me coarse andââ

âGemini, yes!â assented Janice, when the speaker paused. âMany and many âs the time Iâve wanted more.
But ât is all right as long as the men donât know that we do.â

âHere âs the sleigh,â interrupted Tabitha, going to the door. âCome out quickly, while thy father is having the
stirrup cup, and Iâll ask him about Thalia.â

âOh, will you?â joyfully cried Janice. âTibbie, youâre aââ

Miss Meredithâs speech was stopped by the two coming within hearing of the redemptioner, who promptly
removed his cap. ââT will be good to have you back at Greenwood, Miss Janice,â he said with a bow.

âHow gracefully he does it!â whispered Tabitha, as they approached the sleigh. Then aloud she asked,
âCharles, wilt tell me whoâwhoâwho was chosen captain of the âInvinciblesâ?â

The question brought a scowl to the manâs face, and both girls held their breath, expecting an outbreak of
temper, while Tabitha to herself bemoaned that so unfortunate a subject sprang first into her thoughts to
replace the question she dared not put. But before the groom replied, the scowl changed suddenly into a look
of amusement, and when he spoke, it was to say,â

ââT is past belief, Miss Tabitha, except they want to save their skins by never fighting. âT was Joe Bagby the
bumpkins choseâa fellow Iâve knocked down without his resenting it. A cotswold lion, who works his way by
jokes and by hand-shakes. He âs the best friend of every one who ever lived, and I make no doubt, if a British
regiment appears, heâll say he loves the lobsters too much to lead the âInvinciblesâ against them.â

âNo doubt,â agreed Tibbie. âCanst tell me also whoâ whoâhow Clarion is?â

XV QUESTIONS OF DELICACY 67
But this question was never answered, for the squire appeared at this point, and the sleigh was quickly
speeding towards Greenwood. It was after dark when it drew up at its destination, for the spring thaw was
beginning, and the roads soft and deep. Janice was so stiff with the long sitting and the cold that she needed
help both in alighting and in climbing the porch steps. This the groom gave her, and when she was safely in
front of the parlor fire, he assisted in the removing of her wraps, while Mrs. Meredith performed a like service
for the squire in the hallway.

âDost remember your question, Miss Janice,â asked Charles, âjust as you drove away from Greenwood?â

âYes.â

âShe was one of the three graces.â

âWas she very beautiful?â

âThe ancients so held her, but they had never seen you, Miss Janice.â

The girl had turned away as she nonchalantly asked the last question, and so Charles could not see the
charmingly demure smile that her face assumed, nor the curve of the lips, and perhaps it was fortunate for him
that he did not. Yet all Miss Meredith said was,â

âNot that I cared to know, but I knew Tibbie would be curious.â

XVI
A VARIETY OF CONTRACTS
The spring thaw set in in earnest the day after the squireâs return to Greenwood, and housed the family for
several days. No sooner, however, did the roads become something better than troughs of mud than the
would-be Assemblyman set actively to work for his canvass of the county, daily riding forth to make personal
calls on the free and enlightened electors, in accordance with the still universal British custom of personal
solicitation. What he saw and heard did not tend to improve his temper, for the news that the Parliament was
about to vote an extension to the whole country of the punitive measures hitherto directed against
Massachusetts had lighted a flame from one end of the land to the other. The last election had been with
difficulty carried by the squire, and now the prospect was far more gloomy.

When a realising sense of the conditions had duly dawned on the not over-quick mind of the master of
Greenwood, he put pride in his pocket and himself astride of Joggles, and rode of an afternoon to Boxley, as
the Hennionsâ place was named. Without allusion to their last interview, he announced to the senior of the
house that he wished to talk over the election.

âHe, he, he!â snickered Hennion. âKinder gettinâ anxious, heigh? I calkerlated yer âd find things sorter
pukish.â

âTush!â retorted Meredith, making a good pretence of confidence. ââT is mostly wind one hears, and ât will
be another matter at the poll. I rid over to say that thoâ we may not agree in private matters, ât is the business
of the gentry to make head together against this madness.â

âI see,â snarled Hennion. âMy boy ainât good enuf fer yer gal, but my votes is a different story, heigh?â

XVI A VARIETY OF CONTRACTS 68

âVotes for votes is my rule,â rejoined the squire. âThe old arrangement, say I. My tenants vote for ye, and
yours for me.â

âWaal, this year theer âs ter be a differ,â chuckled Hennion. âIâve agreed ter give my doubles ter Joe, anâ heâs
ter give hisn ter me.â

âJoe! What Joe?â

âJoe Bagby.â

âWhat!â roared the squire. âArt mad, man? That good-for-nothing scamp run for Assembly?â

âJoe ainât no fool,â asserted Hennion. âAnâ thoâ his edication and grammer ainât up ter yers anâ mine, squire,
he thinks so like the way folks ere jest naow a-thinkinâ thet it looks ter me as if he wud be put in.â

âThe country is going to the devil!â groaned Mr. Meredith. âAnd yeâll throw your doubles for that
worthlessââ

âI allus throw my doubles fer the man as kin throw the most doubles fer me,â remarked Hennion. âAnâ I ainât
by no means sartin haow many doubles yer kin split this year.â

âPox me, the usual number!â

âDo yer leaseholds all pay theer rents?â

âSome have dropped behind, but as soon as there âs law in the land again theyâll come to the rightabout.â

âExactly,â sniggered Hennion. âAs soon as theer âs law. But when âs thet âere goinâ ter be? Mark me, the
tenants who dare refuse ter pay theer rent, dare vote agin theer landlord. Anâ as Joe Bagby says heâll do his
durndest ter keep the courts closed, I guess the delinquents will think heâs theer candidate. Every man as owes
yer money, squire, will vote agin yer, come election day.â

âAnd yeâll join hands with these thieves and vote with Bagby in Assembly?â

âGuess I mought do wus. But if thet âere âs displeasinâ ter yer, jest blame yerself for ât.â

âHow reason ye that, man?â

âCuz I had it arranged thet I wuz ter side in with the king, and Phil wuz ter side in with the hotheads. But yer
gal hez mixed Phil all up, so heâs turned right over anâ talks ez ef he wuz Lord North or the Duke of Bedford.
Consumaquently, since I donât see no good of takinâ risks, I bed ter swing about anâ jine the young blood.â

What the squire said in reply, and continued to say until he had made his exit from the Hennion house, is far
better omitted. In his wrath he addressed a monologue to his horse, long after he had passed through the gate
of Boxley; until, in fact, he met Phil, to whom, as a better object for them than Joggles, the squire at once
transferred his vituperations.

Instead of going on in his original direction, Philemon turned his horse and rode along with the squire, taking
the rating in absolute silence. Only when Mr. Meredith had expressed and re-expressed all that was in him to
say did the young fellow give evidence that his dumbness proceeded from policy.

XVI A VARIETY OF CONTRACTS 69

âSeems ter me, squire,â he finally suggested, âlike you âre layinâ up against me what donât suit you âbout
dad. Iâve done my bestest ter do what you and Miss Janice set store by, anâ it does seem ter me anythinâ but
fairsome ter have a down on me, just because of dad. âT ainât my fault Iâve got him for a father; I had nât
nothinâ ter do with it, anâ if you have any one ter pick a quarrel with, it must be with God Almighty, who
fixed things as they is. Iâve quit drillinâ; Iâve spoke against the Congress; anâ there ainât nothinâ else I would
nât do ter get Miss Janice.â

âGo to the devil, then,â advised the squire. âNo son ofââ There the squire paused momentarily, and after a
brief silence ejaculated, âEh!â After another short intermission he laughed aloud, as if pleased at something
which had occurred to him. âWhy, Phil, my boy,â he cried, slapping his own thigh, âweâll put a great game up
on thy dad. Weâll show him heâs not the only fox hereabout.â

âAnd what âere âs that?â

âWhat say ye to being my double in the poll, lad?â

âRun against father?â ejaculated Phil.

âAy. Weâll teach him to what trimming and time-serving come. And be damned to him!â

âThat âere âs all very well for you,â responded Hennion, âbut he hainât got the whip hand of you like he has
of me. He would nât stand myââ

âHe âd have to,â gleefully interrupted the squire. âJoin hands with me, lad, and Iâll fix it so ye can snap your
fingers at him.â

âButââ began Phil.

âBut,â broke in the squire. âNonsense! No but, lad. Butterâay, and cream it shall be. Let him turn ye off.
Thereâs a home at Greenwood for ye, if he doesâand something better than that too. Sixteen, ye dog! Sweet
sixteen, rosy sixteen, bashful sixteen, glowing sixteen, run-away-and-want-to-be-found sixteen!â

âShe donât seem ter want me ter find her,â sighed Phil.

âFooh!â jeered the father. âThereâs only two kinds of maids, as yeâd know if yeâd been out in the world as I
have âthose that want a husband and those that donât. But six months married, and ye canât pick the one from
tâ other, try your best. Thereâs nothing brings a lass to the round-about so quick as having to do what she does
nât want. They are born contrary and skittish, and they canât help shying at fences and gates, but give âem the
spur and the whip, and over they go, as happy as a lark. And I say so, Janice will marry ye, and mark my
word, come a month sheâll be complaining that ye donât fondle her enough.â

Mr. Meredithâs pictorial powers, far more than his philosophy, were too much for Philemon to resist. He held
out his hand, saying, ââT is a bargain, squire, an' Iâll set to on a canvass to-day.â

âWell said,â responded the elder, heartily. âAnd that âs not all, Phil, that ye shall get from it. Iâve a tidy lot of
money loaned to merchants in New York, and Iâll get it from âem, and weâll buy the mortgages on your
fatherâs lands. Whoâll have the whip hand then, eh? Oh! weâll smoke the old fox before weâve done with
him. His brush shall be well singed.â

The compact thus concluded to their common satisfaction, the twain separated, and the squire rode the
remaining six miles in that agreeable state of enjoyment which comes from the sense of triumphing over

XVI A VARIETY OF CONTRACTS 70

enemies. His very stride as he stamped through the hall and into the parlour had in it the suggestion that he
was planting his heel on some foe, and it was with evident elation that he announced:â

âWell, lass, Iâve a husband for ye, so get your lips and blushes ready for him against to-morrow!

âOh, dadda, no!â cried the girl, ceasing her spinet practice.

âOh, yes! And no obstinacy, mind. Phil âs a good enough lad for any girl. Where âs your mother that I may
tell her?â

âSheâs in the attic, getting out some whole cloth,â answered the girl; and as her father left the room, she
leaned forward and rested her burning cheek on the veneer of the spinet for an instant as if to cool it. But the
colour deepened rather than lessened, and a moment later she rose, with her lips pressed into a straight line,
and her eyes shining very brightly. âIâll not marry the gawk. No! And if they insist Iâllââ Then she paused.

âHow did Janice take it?â asked Mrs. Meredith, when the squire had broken his news to her.

âColtishly,â responded the father, âbut no blubbering this time. The fillyâs getting used to the idea of a bit,
and will go steady from now on.â All of which went to show how little the squire understood the nature of
women, for the lack of tears should have been the most alarming fact in his daughterâs conduct.

When Phil duly put in an appearance on the following day, he was first interviewed by what Janice would
have called the attorney for the prosecution, who took him to his office and insisted, much to the loverâs
disgust, in hearing what he had done politically. Finally, however, this all-engrossing subject to the
office-seeker was, along with Philemonâs patience, exhausted, and the squire told his fellow-candidate that
the object of his desires could now be seen.

âThe lass jumped to her feet as ye rid up, and said sheâd some garden matters to tend, so there âs the spot to
seek her.â Then the father continued, âDonât shilly-shally with her, whateâer ye do, unless ye are minded to
have balking and kicking for the rest of your days. I took MatildaâMrs. Meredithâby surprise once, and before
she knew I was there I had her in my arms. And, egad! I never let her go, plead her best, till she gave me one
of my kisses back. She began to take notice from that day. âT is the way of women.â

Thus stimulated, Phil entered the garden, prepared to perform most valiant deeds. Unfortunately for him,
however, the bondsman had been summoned by Janice to do the digging, and his presence materially altered
the situation and necessitated a merely formal greeting.

Having given some directions to Charles for continuation of the work, Janice walked to another part of the
garden, apparently quite heedless of Philemon. Her swain of course followed, and the moment they were well
out of hearing of the servant, Janice turned upon him and demanded:â

âArt thou gentleman enough to keep thy word?â

âI hope as how I am, Miss Janice,â stuttered Phil, very much taken aback.

âWilt give me your promise, if I tell thee something, to repeat it to no one?â

âCertain, Miss Janice, Iâll tell nothinâ you donât want folks ter know.â

âEven dadda and mommy?â

XVI A VARIETY OF CONTRACTS 71

âCross my heart.â

âYou see that man over there?â

âYer mean Charles?â

âYes. He is desperately in love with me,â announced the girl.

âLiving jingo! He âs been a-troublinâ you?â

âNo. He loves me too much to persecute me, and, besides, heâs a gentleman.â

âNow, Miss Janice, you know as how Iââ

âAm trying to marry me against my will.â

âBut the squire says youâll be gladsome enough a month gone; thatââ

âUgh!â

âNow please donâtââ

âAnd what I am going to tell you and what youâve given your word not to repeat is this: If you persist in
trying to marry me, if you so much as try toâtoâto be familiar, that moment Iâll run off with himâthere!â

âYou never would!â

âIn an instant.â

âYou âd take a bondsman rather than me?â

The girl coloured, but replied, âYes.â

âIâll teach him ter have done with his cutty-eyed tricks,â roared Phil, doubling up his fists, and turning, âIâllââ

âMr. Hennion!â exclaimed the girl, her cheeks gone very white. âYou gave me your word thatââ

âI never gave no word âbout not threshing the lick.â

âMost certainly you did, for youâyou would have to tell him beforeâand if you do that, Iâllââ

âBut, Miss Janice, you must nât disgraceâDamn him! Then Bagby wasnât lyinâ when he told me how there âd
been talk at the tavern of his bundlinâ with you.â

For a moment Janice stood speechless, everything about her suggesting the shame she was enduring. âHeâhe
never said that!â she panted more than spoke, as if she had ceased to breathe.

âI told Bagby if he said that he was lyinâ; but afterââ

âMr. Hennion, do you intend to insult me as well?â

XVI A VARIETY OF CONTRACTS 72

âNo, no, Miss Janice. I donât believe it. âT was a lie for certain, and Iâm ashamed ter have spoke of it.â

With unshed tears of mortification in her eyes Janice turned to go, every other ill forgotten in this last grief.

âMiss Janice,â called Phil, âyou canât go withoutââ

The girl faced about. âYou men are all alike,â she cried, interrupting. âYou tease and worry and torture a girl
you pretend to care for, till ât is past endurance. I hate you, and before Iâllââ

âNow, Miss Janice, say youâll not run off with him. Iâll âIâll try ter do as you ask, if only youââ

âSo long as youâas you donâtâdonât bother me, I wonât,â promised Janice; âbut the instantââ

And leaving the sentence thus broken, the girl left Philemon, and fled to her room.

XVII
IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY
The scheme devised by Janice to keep Philemon at armâs length would hardly have succeeded for long, had
not the squire been so preoccupied with the election and with the now active farm work that he paid little heed
to the course of true love. Poor Phil was teased by him now and again for his âoffishness;â but Janice
carefully managed that their interviews were not held in the presence of her parents, and so the elders did not
come to a realising sense of the condition, but really believed that the courtship was advancing with due
progress to the port of matrimony.

Though this was a respite to Janice, she herself knew that it was at best the most temporary of expedients, and
that the immediate press of affairs once over, her marriage with Philemon was sure to be pushed to a
conclusion. Already her motherâs discussions of clothes, of linen, and of furniture were constant reminders of
its imminence, and the mere fact that the servants of Greenwood and the neighbourhood accepted the matter
as settled, made allusions to it too frequent for Janice not to feel that her bondage was inevitable. A dozen
times a day the girl would catch her breath or pale or flush over the prospect before her, frightened, as the bird
in the net, not so much by the present situation, as by what the future was certain to bring to pass.

A still more serious matter was further to engross her parentsâ thoughts. One evening late in April, as the
squire sat on the front porch resting from his dayâs labour, Charles, who had been sent to the village on some
errand, came cantering up the road, and drew rein opposite.

[Illustration: âThe prisoner is gone!â]

âHave better care how ye ride that filly, sir,â said the squire, sharply. âIâll not have her wind broke by hard
riding.â

âI know enough of horses to do her no harm,â answered the man, dismounting easily and gracefully; âand if I
rode a bit quick, ât is because Iâve news that needs wings.â

âWhatâs to do?â demanded the master, laying down the âRivingtonâs Royal Gazetteâ he had been reading.

âAs I was buying the nails,â replied the servant, speaking with obvious excitement, âMr. Bissel rode up to the
tavern with a letter from the Massachusetts Committee of Safety to the southward; and as ât was of some
moment, while he baited, I took a copy of it.â The groom held out a paper, his hand shaking a little in his

XVII IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 73

excitement, and with an eager look on his face he watched the squire read the following:â

Water Town Wednesday Morning near 11 of Clock.

To all friends of american liberty, be it known, that this morning before break of day, a
Brigade, consisting of about 1,000 or 1,200 Men, landed at Phippâs Farm at Cambridge and
marched to Lexington, where they found a Company of our Militia in Arms, upon whom they
fired without any provocation and killed 6 Men & wounded 4 othersâBy an express from
Boston we find another Brigade are now upon their march from Boston, supposed to be about
1,000âThe bearer Israel Bissel is charged to alarm the Country quite to Connecticut; and all
Persons are desired to furnish him with fresh Horses, as they may be neededâI have spoken
with several, who have seen the dead & wounded.

J. Palmer one of the Committee of safety.

Forwarded from Worcester April 19, 1775.

BrooklynâThursday 11 o Clock
Norwich 4 o Clock
New London 7 o Clock
LynneâFriday Morning 1 o Clock
Say Brook 4 o Clock
Shillingsworth 7 o Clock
E. Gillford 8 o Clock
Guilford 10 o Clock
Bradford 12 o Clock
New HavenâApril 21
Recd & fowarded on certain Intelligence

Fairfield April 22d 8 o Clock

New York Committee Chamber 4 o Clock
23d April 1775 P. M.

Recd the within Acct by Express, forwd by Express to N Brunswick with directions to stop at
Elizabeth Town & acquaint the Committee there with the foregoing particulars by order

J. S. Low, Chairman.

âHuh!â grunted the squire. âI said the day would come when British regulars would teach the scamps a lesson.
The rapscallions are getting their bellyful, no doubt; ât is to be hoped that it will bring law and quiet once
again in the land.â

ââT will more likely be the match that fires the mine. Youâve little idea, Mr. Meredith, how strong and
universal the feeling is against Great Britain.â

ââT is not as strong as British bayonets, that ye may tie to, fellow.â

XVII IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 74

The servant shook his head doubtfully. ââT will take a long sword to reach this far, and Gage is not the man to
handle it.â

âOddâs life!â swore the squire. âWhat know ye of Gage? If every covenant man does nât think himself the
better of a major-general or a magistrate!â

âHad you ever made the voyage from England, you âd appreciate the difficulties. âT is as big a military folly
to suppose that if America holds together she can be conquered by bayonets, as ât is to suppose that sheâll
allow a rotten Parliament, three thousand miles away, to rule her.â

âHave done with such talk! What does a rogue like ye know of Parliament, except that it passes the laws ye
run from? âT is the like of yeâdebtors, runaways, and such trashâthat is making all this trouble.â

The servant laughed ironically. âFools do more harm in the world than knaves.â

âWhat mean ye by that?â demanded the squire, hotly.

ââT is as reasonable to hold the American cause bad because a few bad men take advantage of it as ât is to
blame the flock of sheep for giving the one wolf his covering. What the Whigs demand is only what the
English themselves fought for under Pym and Hampden, and to-day, if the words âGreat Britainâ were but
inserted in the acts of Parliament of which America complains, there âd be one rebellion from Landâs End to
Duncansby Head.â

âDidst not hear my order to cease such talk?â fumed the squire. âGo to the stable where ye belong, fellow!â

The man coloured and bit his lip in a manifest attempt to keep his temper, but he did not move, saying instead,
âMr. Meredith, wilt please tell me what you paid for my bond?â

âWhy ask ye that?â

âIf I could pay you the amountâand something overâ wouldst be willing to release me from the covenant?â

âAnd why should I?â demanded the squire.

The servant hesitated, and then said in a low voice: âAs a gentleman, you must have seen Iâm no groomâand
think how it must gall me to serve as one.â

âThou shouldst have thought of that before thou indentured, ratherââ

âI know,â burst out the man, âbut I was crazedâwas wild withâwith a grief that had come to me, and knew not
what I was doing.â

âFudge! No romantics. Every redemptioner would have it he is a gentleman, when heâs only caught the trick
by waiting on them.â

âBut if I buy my time youââ

âHow âd come ye by the money?â

âIâI think I could get the amount.â

XVII IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 75

âAy. I doubt not ye know how money âs to be got by hook or by crook! And no doubt ye want your freedom
to drill more rebels to the king. Yeâll not get it from me, so there âs an end on ât.â With which the squire rose,
and stamped into the hall and then to his office.

Charles stood for a moment looking at the ground, and then raised his head so quickly that Janice, who had
joined the two during the foregoing dialogue and whose eyes were upon him, had not time to look away.
âCanât you persuade him to let me go, Miss Janice?â he asked appealingly.

âWhy do you want your freedom?â questioned Janice, letting dignity surrender to curiosity.

âI want to get away from hereâto get to a place where there âs a chance for a quicker death than eating one âs
heart by inches.â

âHow beautifully he talks!â thought Janice.

âNor will I bide here to seeâto seeââ went on the bondsman, excitedly, âI must run, or I shall end byââT will
be better to let me go before I turn mad.â

ââT is as good as a romance,â was Janiceâs mental opinion. âHow I wish Tibbie was here!â

ââT is no doubt a joke to youâoh! you need not have avoided me as youâve done lately to show me that I was
beneath you. I knew it without that. But who is this put you are going to marry?â

âMr. Hennion is of good family,â answered Janice, with Spirit.

âGood family!â laughed the man, bitterly. âNo doubt he is. Think you Phil Hennion is less the clout because
he has a pedigree? There are hogs in Yorkshire can show better genealogies than royalty.â

ââT is quite in keeping that a bond-servant should think little of blood,â retorted Janice, made angry by his
open contempt.

âBlood! Yes, I despise it, and so would you if you knew it as I do,â exclaimed Charles, hotly, cutting the air
with his whip. âThat for all the blood in the world, unless there be honour with it,â he said.

âThe fox did nât want the grapes.â

ââT is no case of sour grapes, as you âd know if I told you my story.â

âOh! I should monstrous like to hear it,â eagerly ejaculated Janice.

The man dropped the bridle and came to the porch. âI swore it should die with me, but there âs one woman in
the world to whomââ he began, and then checked himself as a figure came into view on the lawn out of the
growing darkness. âWhoâs there?â Charles demanded.

âItâs meâJoe Bagby,â was the answer, as that individual came forward. âIs the squire home, miss?â he asked;
and, receiving the reply that he was in his office, Joe volunteered the information that a wish to talk with the
lord of Greenwood about the election was the motive of his call. âI want to see if we canât fix things between
us.â

Scarcely had he spoken when there was a sudden rush of men, who seemed to appear from nowhere, and at
the same instant Joe gave a shove to the bond-servant, which, being entirely unexpected, sent him sprawling

XVII IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 76

on the grass, where he was pinioned by two of the party.

âKeep your mouth shut, or Iâll have to choke you,â said Bagby to Janice, as she opened her mouth to scream.
âTwo of you stand by her and keep her quiet. Sharp now, fellows, heâs in his office. Have him out, and some
of you start a fire, quick.â

The orders were obeyed with celerity, and as some rushed into the hall and dragged forth the squire,
struggling, the scene was lighted by the blazing up of a bunch of hay, which had appeared as if by magic, and
on which sticks of wood were quickly burning. Over the fire a pot, swung on a stick upheld by two men, was
placed, telling a story of intention only too obvious.

âThere is nât any sort of use swearing like that, squire,â said Bagby. âWeâve got a thing or two to say, and if
you wonât listen to it quiet, why, weâll fill your mouth with a lump of tar, to give you something to chew on
while we say it. Cussing did nât prevent your being a babe in the wood, and it wonât prevent our giving you a
bishopâs coat; so if you donât want it, have done, and listen to what we have to propose.â

âWell?â demanded the squire.

âWeâve stood your conduct just as long as it was possible, squire,â went on Bagby, âand been forbearing,
hoping you âd mend your ways. But it âs no use, and so weâve come up this evening to give you a last chance
to put yourself right, for weâre a peace-loving, law-abiding lot, and donât want to use nothing but moral
suasion, as the parson puts it, unless you make us.â

âThat âs it. Give it to him, Joe,â said some one, approvingly.

âNow that the regulars of old Guelph have begun slaughtering the sons of liberty, we have decided to put an
end to snakes in the grass, and so you can come to the face-about, or you can have a coat of tar and a ride on a
rail out of the county. And what âs more, when you âre once out, you âre to stay out, mind. Which is your
choice?â

âWhat do you want me to do?â demanded the squire, sullenly.

âFirst off weâre tired of your brag that tea âs drunk on your table. You âre to give us all youâve got, and you
âre not to get any new, whether ât is East India or smuggled.â

âI agree to that.â

âSecondly,â went on Bagby, in a sing-song voice, much as if he was reading a series of resolutions, âyou âre
to sign the Congress Association, and live up to it.â

The squire looked to right and left, as if considering some outlet; but there were men all about him, and after a
pause he merely nodded his head.

âYou âre getting mighty reasonable, squire,â remarked Bagby, with a grin. âLastly, we donât want to be
represented in Assembly by such a kingâs man, and so youâre to decline a poll.â

âIf the electors donât want me, let them say so at the election.â

âSome of your tenants are âfeared to vote against you, and we intend that this election shall be unanimous for
the friends of liberty. Will you decline a poll?â

XVII IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 77

âNow damn me ifââ began the squire.

âCome, come, squire,â interrupted an elderly man. âYerâve stud no chance of election from the fust, so what
âs the use of stickling?â

âI wash my hands of ye,â roared the squire. âHave whom ye want for what ye want. Iâve done with serving a
lot of ingrates. Ye can come to me in the future on your knees, but yeâll not get me toââ

âThatâs just what we wants,â broke in Joe. "If you âd always been so open to public opinion, weâd have had
no cause for complaint against you. And now, squire, since a united land is what we wants, while your
daughter gets the tea and a pen to sign the Association, do the thing up handsome by singing us the liberty
song.â

âBurn me if I will,â cried the owner of Greenwood, like many another yielding big points without much to-do,
but obstinate over the small ones.

âIs that tar about melted?â inquired Bagby.

âJest the right consistency, Joe,â responded one of the pole-holders.

âBetter sing it, squire,â advised Bagby. âWe know you âre not much at a song, but the sentiments is what we
like.â

Once again the beset man looked to right and left, rage and mortification united. Then, with a remark below
his breath, he sang in a very tuneless bass, that wandered at will between flat and sharp, with not a little
falsetto:â

âCome join Hand in Hand, brave Americans all,

And rouse your bold Hearts at fair Libertyâs Call;
No tyrannous Acts shall suppress your just Claim
Or stain with Dishonour Americaâs Nameâ
In Freedom weâre born and in Freedom weâll live.
Our Purses are readyâ
Steady, Friends, Steadyâ
Not as Slaves, but as Freemen our Money weâll give.â

âThat âs enough!â remarked the ringleader. âNow, Watson, let the squire sign that broadside. Take the pot off,
boys, and dump the tea on the fire. Good-evening, squire, and sweet dreams to you; I hope ât will be long
before you make us walk eight miles again. Fall in, Invincibles. Youâve struck your first blow for freedom.â

For a moment the steady tramp of the departing men was all that broke the stillness of the night; but as they
marched they fell into song, and there came drifting back to the trio standing silent about the porch the air of
âHearts of Oak,â and the words:â

âThen join Hand in Hand, brave Americans all!

To be free is to live, to be Slaves is to fall;
Has the Land such a Dastard, as scorns not a Lord,
Who dreads not a Fetter much more than a Sword?
In Freedom weâre born, and, like Sons of the Brave,
Weâll never surrender,
But swear to defend her,

XVII IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY 78

 And scorn to survive, if unable to save.â

XVIII
FIGUREHEADS AND LEADERS
The squireâs mood in the next few days was anything but genial, and his family, his servants, his farm-hands,
his tenants, and in fact all whom he encountered, received a share of his spleen.

His ill-nature was not a little increased by hearing indirectly, through his overseer, that it was the elder
Hennion who had planned the surprise party; and in revenge Mr. Meredith set about the scheme, already
hinted at, of buying assignments of the mortgages on Boxley. For this purpose he announced his intention of
journeying to New York, and ordered Philemon to be his travelling companion that he might have the
advantage of his knowledge of the holders of the elder Hennionâs bonds. The would-be son-in-law at first
objected to being made a catâs-paw, but the squire was obstinate, and after a night upon it, Phil acceded. No
other difficulty was found in the attainment of Mr. Meredithâs purpose, the money-lenders in New York being
only too glad, in the growing insecurity and general suspension of law, to turn their investments into cash. It
was a task of some weeks to gather them all in, but it was one of the keenest enjoyment to the squire, who
each evening, over his mulled wine in the Kingâs Arms Tavern, pictured and repictured the moment of
triumph, when, with the growing bundle of mortgages completed, he should ride to Boxley and inform its
occupant that he wished them paid.

âWeâll show the old fox that heâs got a ferret, not a goose, to deal with,â he said a dozen times to Phil,âa
speech which always made the latter look very uneasy, as if his conscience were pricking.

This absence of father and lover gave Janice a really restful breathing space, and it was the least eventful time
the girl had known since the advent of the bondsman nearly a year before. Even he almost dropped out of the
girlâs life, for the farm-work was now at its highest point of activity, and he was little about house or stable.
Furthermore, though twenty thousand minutemen and volunteers were gathered before Boston, though the
thirteen colonies were aflame with war preparations, and though the Continental Congress was voting a
declaration on taking up arms and appointing a general, nothing but vague report of all this reached
Greenwood.

In Brunswick, however, Dame Rumour was more precise, and one afternoon as the bondsman rode into the
town, with some horses that needed shoeing, he was hailed by the tavern-keeper.

âSay! Folks tells that yer know how tew paint a bit?â And, when Charles nodded, he continued: âWaal, weâve
hearn word that the Congress has appinted a feller named George Washington fer ginral, who âs goinâ tew
come through here tew-morrer on his way tew Boston, anâ I want tew git that ere name painted out and hisân
put in its place. Are yer up tew it, and what âud the job tax me?â As the publican spoke he pointed at the
lettering below the weather-beaten portrait of George the Third, which served as the signboard of the tavern.

âGet me some colours, and bide till I leave these horses at the smithâs, and Iâll do it for nothing,â said
Charles, smiling; and ten minutes later, sitting on a barrel set in a cart, he was doing his share toward the
obliteration of kinghood and the substitution of a comparatively unknown hero.

ââT is good luck that they both is called George,â remarked the tavern-keeper; âfer yerâve only got tew paint
out the âKingâ anâ put in a âGen.â in the first part, which saves trouble right tew begin on.â

Charles smilingly adopted the suggestion, and then measured off âthe III.â ââT is a long name to get into such
space,â he said.

XVIII FIGUREHEADS AND LEADERS 79

âScant it is,â assented the publican. âIâll tell yer what. Jist leave the âtheâ anâ paint in âgoodâ after it. Thatâll
make it read slick.â Pleased with this solution of the difficulty, the hotel-keeper retired to the âpublic,â with a
parting invitation to the painter to drink something for his trouble.

While Charles was doing the additional work, he was interrupted by a roar of laughter, and, twisting about on
his barrel, he found a group of horsemen, who had come across the green and drawn rein just behind him,
looking at the newly lettered sign. From the one of the three who rode first came the burst of laughterâa man
of medium size and thinly built, perhaps fifty years of age, with a nose so out of proportion to his face, in its
size and heaviness, that it came near enough to caricature to practically submerge all his other features. The
second man was evidently trying not to smile, and as Charles glanced at him, he found him looking at the
third of the trio, as if to ascertain his mood. This last, a man of extreme tallness, and in appearance by far the
youngest of the groupâfor he looked not over thirty at mostâwas scrutinising the signboard gravely, but his
eyes had a gleam of merriment in them, which neutralised the set firmness of the mouth. All the party were in
uniform, save for a couple of servants in livery, and all were well mounted.

âHaw, haw, haw!â laughed the noisy one. âPray God mine host be not as chary with his spit as he is with his
paint or ât will be lean entertainment.â

âI said ât was best to make a push for ât to Amboy,â remarked the second.

âNay, gentlemen,â responded the third, smiling pleasantly. âA man so prudent and economical must keep a
good ordinary. Better bide here for dinner and kill a warm afternoon, and then push on to Amboy, in the cool
of the evening, with rested cattle.â

âWithin there!â shouted the noisy rider, âhast dinner and bait for a dozen travellers?â

The call brought the publican to the door, and at first he gasped a startled âBy Jingo!â Then he jerked his cap
off, and ducked very low, saying: ââT was said, yerâyerâLordship, that yer âd not come till the morrow. But if
yerâll honour my tavern, yer shall have the bestest in the house.â He kept bowing between every word to the
man with the big nose.

âThen here we tarry for dinner,â said the young-looking man, gracefully swinging himself out of the saddle, a
proceeding imitated by all the riders. âTake good heed of the horses, Bill,â he said, as a coloured servant came
forward. âWash Blueskinâs nose and let him cool somewhat before watering him.â He turned toward the door
of the tavern, and this bringing Charles into vision again, he looked up at the painter to find himself being
studied with so intent a gaze that he halted and returned the manâs stare.

âArt struck of a heap by the resemblance?â demanded the noisy officer.

âGo in, gentlemen,â replied the tall one. âWell, my man,â he continued to Charles, âye change figureheads
easily.â

âAy, ât is easier to get new figureheads than ât is to be true to old ones.â

A grave, almost stern look came into the officerâs face, making it at once that of an older man. âThen ye think
the old order best?â he asked, scanning the man with his steady blue eyes.

The bondsman put his hand on the signboard. ââT is safest to stick to an old figurehead until one can find a
true leader,â he answered.

âAnd think you he is one?â demanded the officer, pointing at the signboard.

XVIII FIGUREHEADS AND LEADERS 80

Charles laughed and laid a finger on the chin of royalty. âNo man with so little of that was ever a leader,â he
asserted. He reached down and picked up a different pot of paint from the one he had been using, dipped his
brush in it, and with one sweep over the lower part of the face cleverly produced a chin of character. Then he
took another colour and gave three or four deft touches to the lips, transforming the expressionless mouth into
a larger one, but giving to it both strength and expression. âThere is a beginning of a leader, I think,â he said.

âThou art quick with thy brush and quick with thy eyes,â replied the man, smiling slightly and starting to go.
In the doorway he turned and said with a sudden gravity, quite as much to himself as to the bondsman:
âPlease God that thou be as true in opinion.â

Left alone, the bondsman once more took his brush and broadened and strengthened the nose and forehead.
Just as he had completed these, the tavern-keeper came bustling out of the door. âWilt seek Joe Bagby anâ tell
him tew git the Invincibles tewgether?â he cried. âHe intended tew review âem tew-morrer fer the ginral, anâ
their Lordships says theyâll see âem go throughâWhy, strap me, man, what hast thou been at?â

âIâve been making it a better portrait of the general than it ever was of the king.â

âBut yerâve drawn the wrong man!â exclaimed the publican. âThat quiet young man is not him. âT is the
heavy-nosed man is his Excellency.â

âNonsense!â retorted the bondsman. âThat loud-voiced fellow is Leftenant-Colonel Lee, a half-pay officer.
Many and many âs the time Iâve seen himâand if I had nât, Iâd have known the other for the general in a
hundred.â

âI tell yer yerâre wrong,â moaned the hotel-keeper. âAny one can see heâs a ginral, anâ ât is he gives all the
orders fer victuals anâ grog.â

Charles laughed as he descended from the barrel and the cart. ââT is ever the worst wheel in the cart which
makes the most noise,â he said, and walked away.

Two hours later the Invincibles were bunched upon the green. As the diners issued from the inn, Bagby gave
an order. With some slight confusion the company fell in, and two more orders brought their guns to âpresent
arms.â

âBravo!â exclaimed Lee. âHere are some yokels who for once donât hold their guns as if they were hoes.â

Joe, fairly swelling with the pride of the moment, came strutting forward. When he was within ten feet of the
officers he took off his hat and bowed very low. âThe Invincibles is ready to be put through their paces, your
honour,â he announced.

âDamme!â sneered Lee, below his breath. âHere âs a mohair in command who does nât so much as know the
salute.â

The tall officer, despite his six feet and three inches of height, swung himself lightly into the saddle without
using a stirrup, and rode forward.

âProceed with the review, sir,â he said to Joe.

âYes, sirâthat is, I meanâyour honour,â replied Joe; and, turning, he roared out, âGet ready to go on, fellows.
Attention! Dress

XVIII FIGUREHEADS AND LEADERS 81

Instant disorder was visible in the ranks, some doing one thing, and some another, while a man stepped
forward three or four steps and shouted: âYer fergot ter git the muskets back ter the first persition, Joe.â

âGet into line, durn you!â shouted Joe; âanâ Iâll have something to say to you later, Zerubbabel Buntling.â

âO Lord!â muttered Lee to the other officers, most of whom were laughing. âAnd they expect us to beat
regulars with such!â

âAttention!â once more called Joe. âTo the right faceâ noâI mean, shoulder firelocks first off. Now to the left
face.â But by this time he was so confused that his voice sank as he spoke the last words, and so some faced
right and some left; while altercations at once arose in the ranks that broke the alignment into a number of
disputing groups and set the captain to swearing.

âCome,â shouted one soldier, âcut it, Joe, anâ let Charles take yer place. Yer only mixes us up.â

The suggestion was greeted by numerous, if various, assenting opinions from the ranks, and without so much
as waiting to hear Bagbyâs reply, Charles sprang forward. Giving the salute to the mounted officers, he
wheeled about, and, with two orders, had the lines in formation, after which the manoeuvres were gone
through quickly and comparatively smoothly.

The reviewing officer had not laughed during the confusion, watching it with a sternly anxious face, but as the
drill proceeded this look changed, and when the parade was finished, he rode forward and saluted the
Invincibles. âGentlemen,â he said, âif you but conduct yourselves with the same steadiness in the face of the
enemy as you have this afternoon, your country will have little to ask of you and much to owe.â He turned to
Joe, standing shamefaced at one side, and continued: âYou are to be complimented on your company, sir. âT
is far and away the best I have seen since I left Virginia.â

âAnd that is nât all, your honour,â replied Joe, his face brightening and his self-importance evidently restored.
âWe are a forehanded lot, and weâve got twenty half-barrels of powder laid in against trouble.â

After a few more words with Bagby, which put a pleased smile on his face, the officer wheeled his horse.
âWell, gentlemen, weâll proceed,â he called to the group; and, as they were mounting, he rode to where
Charles stood. âYou have served?â he said.

Charles, with the old sullen look upon his face, saluted, and replied bitterly: âYes, general, and would give an
eye to be in the ranks again.â

The general looked at him steadily. âIf ye served in the ranks, how comes it that ye give the officerâs salute?â
he asked.

Charles flushed, but met the scrutinising eye to eye, as he answered: âNone know it here, but I held his
Majestyâs commission for seven years.â

âYou look oâer young to have done that,â said the general.

âI was made a cornet at twelve.â

âHow comes it that you are here?â

âMy own folly,â muttered the man.

XVIII FIGUREHEADS AND LEADERS 82

ââT is a pity thou ârt indentured, for we have crying need of trained men. But do what you can hereabouts,
since you are not free to join us.â

âI will, general,â said Charles, eagerly, and, as the officer wheeled his horse, he once more saluted. Then as
the travellers rode toward the bridge, the bondsman walked over and looked up at his crude likeness of the
general.

âYer wuz right,â remarked the innkeeper. âThe young-lookinâ feller wuz Ginral Washington.â

âAy,â exclaimed the man; âand, mark me, if a face goes for aught, heâs general enough to beat Gageâand that
the man paused, and then added: âthat sluggard Howe. And would to God I could help in it!â

XIX
SPIES AND COUNTER-SPIES
It was the middle of July when the squire and Phil returned from New York, bringing with them much news
of the war preparations, of Washingtonâs passing through the city, and of the bloody battle of Bunker Hill. Of
far more importance, however, to the ladies of Greenwood, were two pieces of information which their lord
and master promptly announced. First, that he wished the marriage to take place speedily, and second, that at
New York he had met Mr. Evatt, just landed from a South Carolina ship, and intending, as soon as some
matter of business was completed, to repeat his former visit to Greenwood,âan intention that the squire had
heartily indorsed by the warmest of invitations. Both brought the colour to the cheeks of Janice, but had the
parents been watchful, they would have noted that the second bit of news produced the higher tint.

Although Phil was still on apparently good terms with his father, he was, from the time of his return, much at
Greenwood; and, his simple nature being quite incapable of deceit, Janice very quickly perceived that his
chief motive was not so much the loverâs desire to be near, as it was to keep watch of her. Had the fellow
deliberately planned to irritate the girl, he could have hit upon nothing more certain to enrage her, and a week
had barely elapsed when matters reached a crisis.

Janice, who, it must be confessed, took pleasure in deliberately arousing the suspicion of Philemon, and thus
forcing him to reveal how closely he spied upon her, one evening, as they rose from the supper-table, slipped
out of the window and walked toward the stable. Her swain was prompt in pursuit; and she, quite conscious of
this, stepped quickly to one side as she passed through the last opening in the box, and stood half-buried in the
hedge. Ignorant of her proximity, Philemon came quickly through the hedge, and was promptly made aware
of it by her hot words.

ââT is past endurance. Iâll not be spied on so.â

âIâIâWhy, Janice, you know how I likes ter be with you,â falteringly explained Hennion.

âSpy, spy, spyânothing but spy!â rebuked Janice; âI canât so much asâas go to pick a flower but you are
hiding behind a bush.â

ââDeed, Janice, you âre not fairsome ter me. After you sayinâ what you did about that rake-helly bondsman, ât
is only human terââ

âTo treat me as if I was a slave. Why, Peg has more freedom than I have. If youâIâm going to the stableâto see
Charlesâand if you dare to follow me, Iâllââ The girl walked away and disappeared through the doorway,
leaving Philemon standing by the box, the picture of indecision and anxiety. âHe does nât know that Charles

XIX SPIES AND COUNTER-SPIES 83

was sent to the village,â thought Janice, laughing merrily to herself as she went to a stall, and pulling the
horseâs head down put her cheek against it. âOh, Joggles dear,â she sighed, âthey are all against me but you.â
She went from one horse to another, giving each a word and a caress. Then she stole back to the door and
peeked through the crack, to find that her shadow had disappeared; this ascertained, she went and sat down on
the hay. âIf he tortures me, Iâll torture him,â was her thought.

Janice waited thus for but a few minutes, when she heard the rapid trot of a horse, which came to a halt at the
stable door. As that sound ceased, the voice of Charles broke the silence, saying, âYou stall the horse, while I
see the squire;â and, in obedience to this direction, some one led Daisy into the stable. The gloom of nightfall
made the interior too dark for the girl to recognise the man, and, not wishing it to be known that she was there,
she sat quiet.

For a good ten minutes the man waited, whistling softly the while, before Charles returned.

âWaal, what luck?â asked the stranger ere Charles had come through the doorway.

âLuck!â growled the bondsman. âThe devilâs own, as mine always is, curse it!â

âFrom which I calkerlate that old Meredith wuz obstinate and wud nât set yer free.â

âNot he, plead my best. But that âs the last I ask of him; and ât would have served him as well to let me go,
for go I will.â

âYouâll go off withoutââ

âI will.â

âYer know what it means if brought back?â

âDouble the time. Well, treble it, and still Iâll do it. I gave my word Iâd help, and the general shall have the
powder, if for nothing else than to spite that dirty coward Bagby though I serve thrice five years forâ t. Tell
the lads Iâll lead them, and if theyâll meet me at Driggâs barn to-morrow evening at ten weâll scheme out how
to do it.â

Without further parley the stranger walked away, and no sooner had the crunch of his boots ceased than Janice
came forward.

Charles gave a startled exclamation as she appeared, and caught the girl roughly by the wrist. âWhoâs this?â
he exclaimed.

âYou hurt,â complained Janice.

The bondsman relaxed but not released his hold at the sound of her voice. âYouâve heard all I said?â he
demanded.

âYes. IâI did nât like to come out while the man was here.â

âAnd youâll tell your father?â

âNo,â denied the girl. âI did nât want to listen by stealth, but since I did, Iâm no tale-bearer.â

XIX SPIES AND COUNTER-SPIES 84

Raising the hand he held by the wrist, Charles kissed it. âI should have known you were no eavesdropper,
Miss Janice,â he said, releasing his hold.

âButâ Oh, what is it you are going to do?â asked Janice.

âI have your word that it goes no further?â

âYes.â

âA secret letter came to the Brunswick Committee yester-morn from General Washington, saying that it had
just been discovered that their powder account was a lie, and that there were less than ten rounds to each man
in stock. He knew by some means of what is here, and he begged the committee to send it to him; for if the
British attacked him in his present plight, ât would be fatal. And yet what think you the committee did?â

âThey asked you to take it to him?â

âNot they, theâ Ah! there âs no words to fit them. Old Hennion, mean hunks that he is, wanted them to write
and offer to sell it at double what had been paid for ât, while Bagby would nât part with it on any terms,
because he said ât was needed by the âInvinciblesâ to defend the town. The two voted down Parson McClave,
who declared that Brunswick should be laid in ashes rather than that Washington should not be helped. Ah,
Miss Janice, that âs a man for these times.â

âThen what dost intend?â

âThe parson came to me to counsel what was best, and âtween us we concocted a plan to outwit the
time-servers. There are plenty of fellows of spirit in the âInvincibles,â and ât is our scheme to steal the powder
some night, put it on a sloop, and be to sea before daylight.â

âHow monstrous exciting!â exclaimed Janice, her eyes sparkling. âAnd youââ

âIâll lead them. Iâm desperate enough to do anything that has risk. Thereâs real fighting there, if the accounts
speak true, and perhaps a bullet will cancel both my shame and my bondâay, and myâmy love for you. For I
love you, Miss Janice, love you more

Though taken very much by surprise, Janice drew herself up proudly, and interrupted: âYou forgetââ she
began.

âOf course I forget!â broke in the groom. âWhat would love be worth if it did nât forget everything but itself?
I forget Iâm a bond-servant, you âd say. So I should if I were a king. But you are too heartless to know what
love is,â he ended bitterly.

ââT is not so,â denied Janice, angrily; âbut Iâll love no redemptioner, though he be as good-looking and
good-tempered as you are ill-natured and ugly.â

âAnd who are you,â demanded the man, passionately, âto take such mighty airs? A daughter of a nobody,
dubbed Esquire because he is the biggest bubble in a pint pot.â

âI shall not stay here to be insulted,â cried Janice, moving away. But in the doorway her exasperation got the
better of her dignity, and she faced about and said: âYou evidently donât know that my great-grandfather was
Edward Byllynge.â

XIX SPIES AND COUNTER-SPIES 85

The man laughed contemptuously. âWhy, you little ninny,â he retorted, âmy great-grandfather was king of
England!â

Janice caught hold of the lintel, and stood as if transfixed for a moment, even the mortifying epithet of the
groom forgotten in her amazement. âA likely tale!â she ejaculated finally when the first mute surprise was
conquered.

The bond-servant had gained control of himself in the pause, for he quietly rejoined: ââT is true enough,
though nothing to make boast of, save to those who set great store by grandfathers.â Then, in a sadder tone, he
added: ââT was a foolish brag I never thought to make, for it carries more shame than honour, and ât is
therefore best forgotten. Moreover, I ask your pardon for saying what else I did; ât was my tongue and not my
heart which spoke.â

The insult being atoned, Janice came back. âYou said you would tell me your history.â

âBut thenâthat was when I hopedâa fool I was.â The redemptioner paused, and then took a quick step toward
Janice with an eager look on his face and his hand outstretched. âThere is but one woman in the world can
gain the right to hear my sorry tale. May I tell it to you?â

Young and inexperienced as the girl was, the implication of the question was too obvious for her to miss, and
she replied, âNo.â

The man dropped his arm and stood quietly for a moment, then gave a short, abrupt laugh. âEither ât is my lot
to worship clay idols,â he said, âor no woman is worth loving.â

âSmall blame to them for not loving you,â rejoined Janice.

âElecting to marry a put like Hennion! Thereâs a husband of whom to be proud.â

âAt least he is no indentured servant,â retorted the girl, in her irritation, walking away from the stable. Once
through the garden and in sight of the house, she halted, her attention attracted by some to-do about the porch.
Coming swiftly forward, it was to discover the squire there, candle in hand, to light the dismounting of a
horseman, and that no less than Mr. Evatt.

âA welcome to ye,â the host was saying. âPeg, tell Charles to come and take this horse. Get ye into the house,
man; Iâll hold him. Ah! Jan. Take Mr. Evatt in, lass, and tell your mother weâve a visitor.â

Janice, feeling strangely shy, led the way to the parlour, and when her mother, after the briefest of greetings,
promptly bustled off to order a glass of wine and to inspect the best lodging-roomâas guest chambers were
then termedâher embarrassment was sufficient to bring the blood glowing into her cheeks, while, not daring so
much as to meet Evattâs eye, she hung her head and had much ado to keep from trembling.

Evatt stood with a broad smile on his face and unconcealed pleasure in his eyes, for in truth the girl made a
picture to charm any man; and not till Janice lifted her eyes, and shot a furtive look at him, did he move
toward her. He took her hand and whispered: âFor nine months Iâve thought me of those lips and wondered
when I should have taste of them. Quickly, or thy father willââ

âYou must nât!â gasped Janice, hanging her head more than ever. âIâm to marry Philemon.â

âTush!â exclaimed the man. âI heard that tarradiddle in York City. Why, thou ârt promised to me, dost not
remember, and Iâll not release thee, that I bind to. Wouldst rather have that clout than me, Janice?â

XIX SPIES AND COUNTER-SPIES 86

Very falteringly and still with downcast face the girl murmured, âNo.â

âThen Iâll save ye from him, mark my word. Come, up with your lips, and give me a kiss for the promise.
What! still frightened? âT is nothing so terrible. A court lady would have had a dozen kisses in the time Iâve
pleaded. And ye are no mere country hoyden, without manners orââ

Already Janice was raising her head, the possibility of seeming countrified being worse even than a manâs
caress; but her intended submission and Evattâs speech were both interrupted by the clump of boots in the
hall, and the pair had barely time to assume less tell-tale attitudes when the squire and Phil were standing in
the doorway.

âFriend Evatt,â ejaculated Mr. Meredith, âcome to my office at once. Iâve a matter needing your advice. Lass,
tell your mother to send us the Madeira and rum, with some hot water, but let us not be disturbed.â

Evatt made a grimace as he followed, and threw himself into a chair with a suggestion of irritation.

âThis lad, for a reason he wonât tell,â began the squire, as he closed the door, âhas kept eye on a bondsman of
mine, and this evening, as luck would have it, he stood upon a barrel, by one of the stable windows, and
overheard a pretty story the fellow told to some one whom Phil could nât see. Tell it oâer, lad, as ye told it
me.â

Hennion, thus admonished, retold the story of the powder, as the bond-servant had related it to Janice. But two
omissions he made: the first being a failure to mention the connection of his father with the matter, and the
second the presence of Janice in the stable.

âHere âs news indeed!â exclaimed Evatt.

âAy. But what to do with it is the question.â

âDo! Why, get word of it to Howe as quick as may be, so that he may take advantage of their plight. We must
send him a letter.â

ââT is easier said than done. Boston is encompassed, and no man can get through the lines.â

âI have it. The âAsiaâ frigate, with her tender, lies in the lower bay at New York; the latter can be sent round
with a letter to Boston. And ye shall bear it, lad,â added Evatt, turning to Phil.

ââT ainât no wish of mine,â ejaculated Philemon.

âThere is no one else we can trust. âT will be but a monthâs affair, at worst.â

âBut I donât care ter go,â dissented Hennion. âI want ter get married ter Miss Janice right off, anâ notââ

âCome, squire, tell the fellow he must nât shirk his duty to his king. He can marry your daughter any time, but
now the moment to do a service to his country. Why, man, if it ends this rebellion, as it seems like to, theyâll
give ye a titleâ and ye, too, squire, I doubt not.â

âHe speaks true, Phil. Here âs a chance, indeed. Put the girl out of thy head for a time, and think a manâs
thoughts.â

âAy,â cried Evatt. âDonât prove the old saying:

XIX SPIES AND COUNTER-SPIES 87

 âHe who sighs for a glass without G,
Take away L and that is he.ââ

It took much more urging to get Phil to yield, but finally, on a promise of the master of Greenwood that he
should wed so soon as he returned, he gave a half-hearted consent. Over the rum a letter to Sir William Howe
was written by Evatt, and he and Phil arranged to be up and away betimes in the morning.

âThat gets him well out of the way,â remarked Evatt, as in his bedroom he stripped off his clothes. âNow to be
as successful with Miss Blushing Innocence.â

XX
THE LOGIC OF HONOURED PARENTS AND DUTIFUL CHILDREN
Philemon and Evatt were in the saddle by five the next morning and a little more than an hour later held
consultation with Bagby. Everything except Philâs intended mission was quickly told him.

âJingo!â he remarked, and then whistled. âWhy, ât is stealing? Is nât there to be no law in the land? When do
they plot to rob us?â

âThey meet this evenin' ter scheme it, anâ a body canât tell when theyâll act.â

ââT wonât likely be to-night, but Iâll keep guard myself, all the same, and some of the Invincibles shall watch
every night.â

This warning given, and a bite taken at the tavern by way of breakfast, the ride to Amboy was made in quick
time. Here a boat was secured, and the two were rowed off to the âAsiaâ as she lay inside the Hook. Evatt had
a long conference with her captain in his cabin, and apparently won consent to his plan; for when he returned
on deck, a cutter was cleared away, and Phil was told it would put him on the tender which was to carry him
to Boston. With many a longing glance at the shore, he bade good-by to Evatt, who cheered him by
predictions of reward and speedy return.

Philemon gone, Evatt remained a short time in conference with the chaplain of the man-of-war, and then
returned to Amboy. Once more taking horse, he set off on his return to Greenwood, arriving there in the heat
of the afternoon. He was forced, by the absence of all the working force in the hayfield, to stable his horse
himself, and then he walked toward what he had already observed from the saddle,âJanice, seated upon a
garden bench under a poplar on the lawn, making artificial flowers. Let it be acknowledged that until the
appearance of Evatt the girl had worked languidly, and had allowed long pauses of idleness while she
meditated, but with his advent she became the embodiment of industry.

âOddâs life!â the man ejaculated as he sat down beside the worker. ââTwixt loveâs heat and an August sun,
your lover, Janice, has come nigh to dissolving."

Janice, with hands that shook, essayed to snip out a rose petal which her own cheeks matched in tint.

Evatt removed first his hat and then his wig, that he might mop his head. Having replaced the hirsute
ornament, he continued: âAnd thy father is as hot for thy marriage with that yokel. He set the day yestereâen."

âWhen?â demanded the girl, looking up anxiously.

âWhat say ye to this day week?â

XX THE LOGIC OF HONOURED PARENTS AND DUTIFUL CHILDREN 88

âOh!â cried Janice. âWas ever maid born under such a haâpenny planet?â

âDonât make outcry âgainst your star when it has sent ye a lover in the nick of time, ready to save ye from the
bumpkin.â

Janice took a shy come-and-go glance at him and said: âYou mean

âWhat say ye to an elopement?â

âOh!â exclaimed the girl, meeting Evattâs gaze eagerly. ââT would be monstrous delightsome to be run off
with, of course; butââ

âBut what?â

âWellâIâ Mommy told me that in the province no maid could be lawfully wed without her parentsâ consent.â

âTrue,â assented the tempter, âif she wed where the colony law holds good. But weâll get round that by
having the knot tied on royal ground.â

âNot in England?â said the girl, drawing back a little.

âThink ye Iâd treat the lass I love like that?â responded Evatt, reproachfully. âNay. A friend of mine is
chaplain on the âAsiaâ man-of-war, and heâll make no bones about helping us. And as the kingâs flag and
broad arrow puts the ship out of the colony jurisdiction, ât will make the thing legal despite the law.â

[Illustration: âHereâs to the prettiest damsel!â]

âHow romantic!â exclaimed Janice. âTo think of making a stolen match, and of being wed on a kingâs ship!â

âNow dost want to rail at thy star?â

ââT is great good fortune,â ecstatically sighed the girl. âThink you ât would be right?â

âWould I ask it if ât were not?â rejoined Evatt, heartily.

âBut dadda and mommyââ began the falterer.

âWill be pleased enough when the jobâs done. Think ye, if they were nât bound they âd not rather have a
titled son-in-law than that gawk?â

âA what?â cried Janice.

âThou dost not know thy loverâs true name, Janice. âT is John Ombrey, Lord Clowes, who sits beside thee.â

Janice sprang to her feet. âAnd Iâve spoke to you as if you were justâjust a man,â she cried in a horrified
voice.

ââT was not fair so to beguile me!â

Evatt looked at the ground to hide the smile he could not suppress. ââT was done for the king, Janice,â he
said. âAnd ât is all the more romantic that Iâve won ye without your knowing. Sit down again; if ât were not

XX THE LOGIC OF HONOURED PARENTS AND DUTIFUL CHILDREN 89

in view of the house I should be kneeling to ye.â

Janice sank back on the garden seat. âI canât believe it yet!â she gasped breathlessly. âI knew of course thou
wast a court gentleman, butââ

âAnd now I suppose yeâll send me packing and wed the yokel?â suggested the lover.

âOh, no!â cried Janice. âIf youâif you reallyââ the girl gave a glance at the man, coloured to the temples, and,
springing to her feet, fled toward the house. She did not stop till she reached her room, where she flung herself
on the bed and buried her cheeks in the pillow. Thus she lay for some time, then rose, looked at herself in the
mirror, and finding her hair sadly disordered, she set about the task of doing it over. ââT is beyond belief!â she
murmured. âI must be very beautiful!â She paused in her task, and studied her own face. âNow I know why he
always makes me feel so uncomfortable âand afraidâandâand gawky. âT is because he is a lord. Sometimes he
does look at me as ifâas if he were hungryâ ugh! It frights me. But he must know what âs the mode. âLady
Janice Clowes.â âT is a pity the title is not prettier. Whatever will Tibbie say when she hears!â

It was a little after ten that evening when the squire and Evatt parted for the night in the upper hail, the former
being, as usual, not tipsy, but in a jovial mood toward all things; and as this attitude is conducive to sleep, his
snores were ere long reverberating to all waking ears. One pair of these were so keenly alive to every noise
that not the chirp of a cricket escaped them, and from time to time their owner started at the smallest sound.
Owing to this attention, they heard presently the creak of the stairs, the soft opening of the front door, and
even the swish of feet on the grass. Then, though the ears fairly strained to catch the least noise, came a
silence, save for the squire's trumpeting, for what seemed to the girl a period fairly interminable.

Finally the rustling of the grass told of the return of the prowler, and as the girl heard it she once more began
trembling, âOh!â she moaned. âIf only I had nâtâif only heâd go away!â She rose from the bed, and stole to
the window.

âMr. Evatt, Iâm so frightened, I donât dare,â she whispered to the figure standing below. âWait till to-morrow
night!

âNonsense!â said the man, so loudly that Janice was more cared than ever. âI told ye it must be to-night.
Come down quickly.â

âOh, please!â moaned Janice.

âDost want to be the wife of that gawk?â demanded Evatt, impatiently.

Though he did not know it, the girl vacillated. âAt least Iâm not frightened of Phil,â was her thought.

âWell,â called the man more loudly, âart going to keep me here all night?â

âHush!â whispered Janice. âTheeâll wakeââ

âBelike I will,â he retorted irritably. âAnd if they ask me what âs in the wind, they shall have the truth. Oddâs
life! Iâm not a man to be fooled by a chit of a girl.â

âOh, hush!â again she begged, more frightened at the prospect of her parents knowing than by any other
possibility. âIâll come if youâll only be quiet.â

She took a small bundle, hurriedly stole downstairs, and passed out of the house.

XX THE LOGIC OF HONOURED PARENTS AND DUTIFUL CHILDREN 90

âNow yeâve come to your senses,â said the man. âGive me the bundle and your hand,â he continued, and set
out at a rapid pace across the lawn, having almost to drag the girl, her feet carried her so unwillingly. âOver
with ye,â he ordered, as they reached the stile at the corner, and when Janice descended she found two horses
hitched to the fence and felt a little comforted by the mere presence of Daisy. She was quickly mounted, and
they set off, the girl so helpless in her fright that Evatt had to hold her horseâs bridle as well as his own.

âBurn it!â exclaimed Evatt, presently, âart never going to end thy weeping?â

âIf you would only have waited tillââ sobbed Janice.

ââT was no time for shilly-shallying,â interrupted the man. âDost not see that we had to take to-night, when
the groom was gone, for there âd have been no getting the horses with him sleeping in the stable?â

âWhat if we meet him returning?â cried the girl, her voice shaking.

ââT would little matter. Think ye he could catch us afoot?â

âBut he could tell dadda.â

âAnd by that time we shall be two-thirds of the way to Amboy. âT is but a twenty miles, and we should be
there by three. Then if we meet no delay in getting a boat, we shall be on the âAsiaâ near seven. By eight the
chaplain will have made us twain one.â

âOh!â moaned the girl, âwhat ever will dadda say?â

As this was a question no one could answer, a silence ensued, which lasted until they rode into Brunswick.
Guiding the horses upon the green, to reduce the beat of their hoofs to a minimum, Evatt turned off the grass
at the river road and headed toward the bridge across the Raritan. As they approached, a noise of some kind
arrested Evattâs attention, and he was just checking the horses when a voice cried:â

âStand!â

Janice gave a startled cry which instantly set a dog barking.

âKeep silence!â again ordered the unseen man.

Evatt, after an oath below his breath, demanded, âBy what right do ye stop us, whoever ye are?â

âBy the right of powder and ball,â remarked the voice, drily.

Again the dog barked, and both Evatt and the unseen man swore. âCurse the beast!â said the latter. âHist,
Charles! Call the dog, or heâll wake the town.â

Another voice from a little distance called, âClarion!â in a guarded inflection; meantime the hound had
discovered his mistress, and was jumping about her horse, giving little yelps of pleasure.

In another instant Charles came running up. âWhatâs wrong?â he questioned.

ââT is a couple of riders Iâve halted,â said the voice from the shadow.

XX THE LOGIC OF HONOURED PARENTS AND DUTIFUL CHILDREN 91

âOut of the way!â ordered Evatt. âYeâve no right to prevent us from going forward. Iâve pistols in my
holsters, and yeâd best be careful how ye take the law into your own hands.â

The groom gave an exclamation as he recognised the riders; and paying no attention to Evatt, he sprang to the
side of the girl and rested his hand on the bridle, as if to prevent her horse from moving, while he asked in
amazement: âWhat brings you here?â

Speechless and shamed, the girl hung her head.

âLet go that bridle, ye whelp!â blustered Evatt, throwing back the flap of his holster and pulling out a heavy
horse pistol.

As he made the motion, the bondsman dropped the rein and seized the hand that held the weapon. For a
moment there was a sharp struggle, in which the third man, who sprang from the shadow, joined. Nor did
Evatt cease resistance until three men more came running up, when, overborne by numbers, he was dragged
from his horse and held to the ground. In the whole contest both sides had maintained an almost absolute
silence, as if each had reasons for not waking the villagers.

âStuff a sod of grass in his mouth to keep him quiet,â ordered Charles, panting, âand tie him hand and foot.â
Taking a lantern from one of the men, he walked back to the speechless and frightened girl and held the light
to her face. ââT is not possible youâyouâoh! Iâll never believe it of you.â

With pride and mortification struggling for mastery, Janice replied: âWhat you think matters not to me.â

âYou were eloping with this man?â

Though the groomâs thoughts were of no moment to the girl, she replied: âTo escape marrying Philemon
Hennion.â

âWhat things women are!â he exclaimed contemptuously. âYou deserve no better than to be his doll common,
butââ

âWe were to be married,â cried Janice.

âIn the reign of Queen Dick!â

âThis very day on the âAsiaâ frigate.â

âA likely tale,â jeered the man. âBring that fellow down to the boat,â he called, and catching hold of the
bridle, he started walking.

âWhither are you taking me?â inquired Janice, in fright.

âThe parson is down by the river, helping transfer the powder, and Iâm going to leave you with him to take
back to Greenwood.â

âOh, Charles,â besought the girl, âyouâll not be so cruel! Iâd sooner die thanâthanâThink what mommyâ and
daddaâand the whole villageâI did nât want to go with himâbutâPlease, oh, please! Youâll not disgrace me?
Iâll promise never to go off with himâindeedââ

XX THE LOGIC OF HONOURED PARENTS AND DUTIFUL CHILDREN 92

âOf that Iâll be bound,â sneered the servant, with a harsh laugh, âfor Iâm going to take him with me to
Cambridge.â

For a moment Janice was silent, then cried: âIf you only knew how I hate you.â

The man laughed bitterly. âI doâfrom the way I hateâ ay, and despise you!â

Another moment brought them to the edge of a wharf, where a number of men were busying themselves in
stowing barrels on board a small sloop. âHold this horse,â ordered the servant, while he joined one of the
toilers and drew him apart in consultation.

âPowder aboard, capân,â presently called some one.

âTake that man and stow him below decks along with it,â ordered Charles. âGood-by, parson. I hope to send
good news from Cambridge of this nightâs work. Boys, take Bagby out of the stocks before daylight, and tell
him if the Invincibles want their powder to follow us, and they shall have fifty rounds of it a man, with plenty
of fighting to boot. All aboard that are for the front!â

Half a dozen men followed, while those on the wharf cast off the fasts. But all at once stood still when the
parson, with bowed head, began a prayer for the powder, for the adventurers who took it, and for the general
and army it was designed to serve. Sternly yet eloquently he prayed until the boat had drifted with the tide out
of hearing, and the creak of the blocky came across the water, showing that those on board were making sail.
Then, as the men on the wharf dispersed, he mounted the horse Evatt had ridden.

âJanice Meredith,â he said sternly,â I propose to occupy this ride with a discourse upon the doctrine of total
depravity, from which downward path you have been saved this night, deducing therefrom an illustration of
the workings of grace through foreordination,âthe whole with a view to the saving of your soul and the
admonishment of your sinful nature.â

XXI
A SUDDEN SCARCITY OF BEAUX
It was daylight when the parson and Janice rode through the gate of Greenwood, and the noise of hoofs
brought both the girlâs parents to the window of their bedroom in costumes as yet by no means completed.
Yet when, in reply to the demand of the squire as to what was the meaning of this arrival, it was briefly
explained to him that his daughter had attempted to elope with his guest, he descended to the porch without
regard to scantiness of clothing.

A terrible ten minutes for Janice succeeded, while the squire thundered his anger at her, and she, overcome,
sobbed her grief and mortification into Daisyâs mane. Then, when her father had drained the vials of his
wrath, her mother appeared more properly garbed, and in her turn heaped blame and scorn on the girlâs bowed
head. For a time the squire echoed his wifeâs indignation, but it is one thing to express wrath oneself and quite
another to hear it fulminated by some one else; so presently the squireâs heart began to soften for his lass, and
he attempted at last to interpose in palliation of her conduct. This promptly resulted in Mrs. Meredithâs
ordering Janice off the horse and to her room. âWhere Iâll finish what I have to say,â announced her mother;
and the girl, helped down by Mr. Meredith, did as she was told, longing only for death.

The week which succeeded was a nightmare to Janice, her mother constantly recurring to her wickedness, the
servants addressing her with a scared breathlessness which made her feel that she was indeed declassed for
ever, while the people of the neighbourhood, when she ventured out-of-doors, either grinned broadly or

XXI A SUDDEN SCARCITY OF BEAUX 93

looked dourly when they met her, showing the girl that her shame was town property.

Mrs. Meredith also took frequent occasion to insist on the girlâs marriage with Mr. McClave, on the ground
that he alone could properly chasten her; but to this the squire refused to listen, insisting that such a
son-in-law he would never have, and that he was bound to Philemon. âWeâll keep close watch on her for the
time heâs away, and then marry her out of hand the moment heâs returned,â he said.

Had the parents attempted to carry out the system of espionage that they enforced during the first month they
would have had their hands full far longer than they dreamed. Week after week sped by, summer ripened into
fall, and fall faded into winter, but Philemon came not. Little by little Janiceâs misconduct ceased to be a
general theme of village talk, and the life at Greenwood settled back into its accustomed groove. Even the
mutter of cannon before Boston was but a matter of newspaper news, and the war, though now fairly
inaugurated, affected the squire chiefly by the loss of the bondsman, for whom he advertised in vain.

One incident which happened shortly after the proposed elopement, and which cannot be passed over without
mention, was a call from Squire Hennion on Mr. Meredith. The master of Boxely opened the interview by
shaking his fist within a few inches of the rubicund countenance of the master of Greenwood, and, suiting his
words to the motion, he roared: âMay Belza take yer, yer oldââ and the particular epithet is best omitted, the
eighteenth-century vocabulary being more expressive than refinedââfer sendinâ my boy ter Boston, wheer,
belike, heâll never git away alive.â

âDonât try to bully me!â snorted the squire, shaking his fist in turn, and much nearer to the hatchet-face of his
antipathy. âPut that down or Iâll teach ye manners! Yes, damn ye, for the first time in your life ye shall be
made to behave like a gentleman!â

âI defy yer ter make me!" retorted Hennion, with unconscious humour.

âHeyday!â said Mrs. Meredith, entering, âwhat âs the cause of all this hurly-burly?â

âEnuf cause, an' ter spare,â howled Hennion. âHere thisââ once more the title is left blank for proprietyâs
sakeâ âhez beguiled poor Phil inter goinâ on some fool errand ter Boston, anâ the feller knew so well I would
nât hev it thet all he dun wuz ter write me a line, tellinâ how thisâinsisted he should go, anâ thet heâd started.
âTwixt yer whiffet of a gal anâ yer oldâof a husband, yerâve bewitched all the sense the feller ever hed in his
noddle, durn yer!â

âLet him talk,â jeered the squire. ââT will not bring Phil back. Whatâs more, Iâll make him smile the other
side of his teeth before Iâve done with him. Harkee, man, Iâve a rod in pickle that will make ye cry small.â
The squire took a bundle of papers from an iron box and flourished them under Hennion s nose âThere are
assignments of every mortgage ye owe, ye old fox, and pay day âs coming.â

âLet it,â sneered the owner of Boxely. âYer think I did nât know, I sâpose? Waal, thet âs wheer yer aout. Phil,
he looked so daown in the maouth just afore yer went ter York thet I knew theer must be somethinâ ter make
him act so pukish, anâ I feels araound a bit, anâ as he ainât the best hand at deceivinâ I hez the facâs in no
time. Anâ as I could nât hev them âere mortgages in better hands, I tell âd him ter go ahead anâ help yer all he
could. âT was I gave him the list of them I owed.â

The squire, though taken aback, demanded: âAnd I suppose ye have the money ready to douse on pay day?â

Hennion sniggered. âYer wonât be hard, thet I know, squire. I reckon yerâll go easy on me.â

XXI A SUDDEN SCARCITY OF BEAUX 94

âIf ye think Iâm going to spare ye on account of Phil ye are mightily out. Iâll foreclose the moment each falls
due, that I warn ye.â

âHaow kin yer foreclose whin theer ainât no courts?â

âPish!â snapped the creditor. ââT is purely temporary; within a twelve-month thereâll be law enough. Think
ye England is sleeping?â

âWeâll see, weâll see,â retorted Hennion. âIn the meantime, squire, I hope yer wonât wont because I donât
pay interest. Times is thet onsettled thet yer kainât sell craps naw nothin,â anâ ready money âs pretty hard ter
come by.â

âNot I,â rejoined the squire. ââT will enable me to foreclose all the quicker.â

âWhen theer âs courts ter foreclose,â replied Hennion, grinning suggestively. With this parting shot, he left
the house and rode away.

On the same day this interview occurred, another took place in the Craigie House in Cambridge, then
occupied as the headquarters of General Washington. The commander-in-chief was sitting in his room, busily
engaged in writing, when an orderly entered and announced that a man who claimed to have important
business, which he refused to communicate except to the general, desired word with him. The stranger was
promptly ushered in, and stood revealed as a fairly tall, well-shaped young fellow, clad in coarse clothing,
with a well-made wig of much better quality, which fitted him so ill as to suggest that it was never made for
his head.

âI understand your Excellency is in dire need of powder," he said as he saluted.

A stern look came upon Washingtonâs face. âWho are you, and how heard you that?â he demanded.

âMy name is John Brereton. How I heard of your want was in a manner that needs not to be told, asââ

âTell you shall,â exclaimed Washington, warmly. âThe fact was known to none but the general officers and to
the powder committee, and if there has been unguarded or unfaithful speech it shall be traced to its source.â

âYour Excellency wrote a letter to the committee of Middlesex County in Jersey?â

âI did.â

âThe committee refused to part with the powder.â

Washington rose. âHave they no public spirit, no consideration of our desperate plight?â he exclaimed.

âBut your Excellency, though the committee would not part with the powder, some lads of spirit would not
see you want for it, andâand by united effort we succeeded in getting and bringing to Cambridge twenty
half-barrels of powder, which is now outside, subject to your orders.â

With an exclamation mingling disbelief and hope, the commander sprang to the window. A glance took in the
two carts loaded with kegs, and he turned, his face lighted with emotion.

âGod only knows the grinding anxiety, the sleepless nights, I have suffered, knowing how defenceless the
army committed to my charge actually was! You have done our cause a service impossible to measure or

XXI A SUDDEN SCARCITY OF BEAUX 95

reward.â He shook the manâs hand warmly.

âAnd I ask in payment, your Excellency, premission to volunteer.â

âIn what capacity?â

âI have served in the British forces as an officer, but all I ask is leave to fight, without regard to rank.â

âTell me the facts of your life.â

âAs I said, my name is John Brereton. Nothing else about me will ever be known from me.â

Washington scrutinised the man with an intent surprise. âYou cannot expect us to trust you on such
information.â

âAn hour ago it would have been possible for me to have sneaked by stealth into the British lines with this
letter,â said the man, taking from his pocket a sheet of paper and handing it to the general. âWhat think you
would Sir William Howe have given me for news, over the signature of General Washington, that the
Continental Army had less than ten rounds of powder per man?â

Washington studied the face of the young fellow steadily for twenty seconds. âAre you good at penmanship?â
he asked.

âI am a deft hand at all smouting work,â replied Brereton.

âThen, sir,â said Washington, smiling slightly, âas I wish to keep an eye on you until you have proved
yourself, I shall for the present find employment for you in my own family.â

Thus a twelve-month passed without Philemon Hennion, John Evatt, Charles Fownes, Parson McClave, or
any other lover so much as once darkening the doors of Greenwood.

âJanice,â remarked her mother at the end of the year, âdost realise that in less than a twelve-month thou âlt be
a girl of eighteen and without a lover, much less a husband? I was wed before I was seventeen, and so are all
respectably behaved females. See what elopements come to. âT is evident thou ârt to die an old maid.â

XXII
THE OLIVE BRANCH
If this year was bare of courtships, of affairs of interest it was far otherwise. Scarcely was 1776 ushered in
than news came that the raw and ill-equipped force, which for nine months had held the British beleaguered in
Boston, had at last obtained sufficient guns and powder to assume the offensive, and had, by seizing
Dorchester Heights, compelled the evacuation of the city. Howeâs army and the fleet sailed away without
molestation to Halifax, leaving behind them a rumour, however, that great reinforcements were coming from
Great Britain, and that upon their arrival, New York would be reduced and held as a strategic base from which
all the middle colonies would be overrun and reduced to submission.

This probability turned military operations southward. General Lee, who early in the new year had been given
command of the district around Manhattan Island, set about a system of fortifications, even while he protested
that the water approaches made the city impossible to hold against such a naval force as Britain was certain to
employ. At the same time that this protection was begun against an outward enemy, a second was put in train

XXII THE OLIVE BRANCH 96

against the inward one, and this involved the household of Meredith.

One morning, while the squire stood superintending two of his laborers, as they were seeding a field, a rider
stopped his horse at the wall dividing it from the road and hailed him loudly. Mr. Meredith, in response to the
call, walked toward the man; but the moment he was near enough to recognise Captain Bagby, he came to a
halt, indecisive as to what course to pursue toward his enemy.

âCanât do no talking at this distance, squire,â sang out Bagby, calmly; âand as Iâve got something important
to say, and my nag prevents me from coming to you, I reckon youâll have to do the travelling.â

After a momentâs hesitation, the master of Greenwood came to the stone wall. But it was with a bottled-up
manner which served to indicate his inward feelings that he demanded crustily, âWhat want ye with me?â

âItâs this way,â explained Joe. âIf whatâs said is true, Howe is coming to York with a bigger army than we
can raise, to fight us, if we fights, but with power to offer us all we wants, if we wonât. Now there âs a big
party in Congress as is mortal afraid that thereâll be a reconciliation, and so they is battling tooth and nail to
get independence declared before Howe can get here, so that there shaânât be no possibility of making up.â

âThe vile Jesuits!â exclaimed the squire, wrathfully, âand but a three-month gone they were tricking their
constituents with loud-voiced cries that the charge that they desired independence was one trumped up by the
ministry to injure the American cause, and that they held the very thought in abhorrence.â

ââT is nât possible to always think the same way in politics straight along,â remarked the politician, âand that
âs just what I come over to see you about. Now, if there âs going to be war, I guess Iâll be of some
consequence, and if there âs going to be a peace, like as not youâll be on top; and Iâll be concerned if I can tell
which it is like to be.â

âI can tell ye,â announced Mr. Meredith. ââT isââ

âPerhaps you can, squire,â broke in Bagby, âbut your opinions have nât proved right so far, so just let me
finish what I have to say first. Have you heard that the Committee of Safety has arrested the Governor?â

âNo. Though ât is quite of a piece with your other lawless proceedings.â

âSome of his letters was intercepted, and they was so tory-ish that ât was decided he should be put under
guard. And at the same time it was voted to take precautionary proceedings against all the other enemies of
the country.â

âThen why are nât ye under arrest?â snapped the squire.

ââCause there âs too many of us, and too few of you,â explained Bagby, equably. âNow the Committee has
sent orders to each county committee to make out a list of those we think ought to be arrested, and a meeting
âs to be held this afternoon to act on it. Old Hennion he came to me last night and said he wanted your name
put on, and heâd vote to recommend that you be taken to Connecticut and held in prison there along with the
Governor.â

âPox the old villain!â fumed Mr. Meredith. âFor a six-months Iâve sat quiet, as ye know, and ât is merely his
way of paying the debts he owes me. A fine state yeâve brought the land to, when a man can settle private
scores in such a manner.â

XXII THE OLIVE BRANCH 97

âThere is nât no denying that you âre no friend to the cause, and if any one âs to be took up hereabouts, it
should be you. Still, Iâm a fair-play fellow, and so I thought, before I let him have his way, Iâd come over and
have a talk with you, to see if we could nât fix things.â

âHow?â

âIf the king âs come to his senses and intends to deal fair with us,â remarked Bagby, with a preliminary glance
around and a precautionary dropping of his voice, âthat âs all I ask, and so I donât see no reason for attacking
his friends until we are more certain of what âs coming. At the same time, if Hennion wants to jail you, I think
youâll own I have nât much reason to take your part. Youâve always been as stuck up and abusive to me as
you well could be. So ât is only natural I should nât stand up for you.â

The lord of Greenwood swallowed before he said, âPerhaps Iâve not been neighbourly, but what sort of
revenge is it to force me from my home, and distress my wife and daughter?â

âThatâs it,â assented the Committeeman. âAnd so I came over to see what could be done. We have nât been
the best of friends down to now, but that is nât saying that we could nât have been, if you âd been as
far-seeing as me, and known who to side in with. It seemed to me that if I stood by you in this scrape we
might fix it up to act together. I take it that my brains and your money could run Middlesex County about as
we pleased, if we quit fighting, and work together. Squire Hennion would have to take a back seat in politics, I
guess.â

The squire could not wholly keep the pleasure the thought gave him from his face. ââT would be a god-send
to the county,â he cried. âYe know that as well as I.â

âAs to that, Iâll say nothing,â answered Joe. âBut of course, if Iâm going to throw my influence with you, I
expect something in return.â

âAnd what âs that?â asked Mr. Meredith, still dwelling on his revenge.

âI need nât tell you, squire, that Iâm a rising man, and Iâm going to go on rising. âT wonât be long before Iâm
about what I please, especially if we make a deal. Now, though there has nât been much intercourse between
us, yet Iâve had my eye on your daughter for a long spell, and if youâll give your consent to my keeping
company with her, Iâll be your friend through thick and thin.â

For a moment Mr. Meredith stood with wide-open mouth, then he roared: âDamn your impudence!
yeâyeâhave my lass, yeâbe off with yeâyeââ There all articulate speech ended, the speaker only sputtering in
his wrath, but his two fists, shaken across the wall, spoke eloquently the words that choked him.

âI thought you âd play the fool, as usual,â retorted the suitor, as he pulled his horseâs head around. âYouâll
live to regret this day, see if you donât.â And with this vague threat he trotted away toward Brunswick.

Whether Bagby had purposely magnified the danger with the object of frightening the squire into yielding to
his wishes, or whether he and Hennion were outvoted by Parson McClave and the other members of the
Committee, Mr. Meredith never learned. Of what was resolved he was not left long in doubt, for the morning
following, the whole Committee, with a contingent of the Invincibles, invaded the privacy of Greenwood, and
required of him that he surrender to them such arms as he was possessed of, and sign a parol that he would in
no way give aid or comfort to the invaders. To these two requirements the squire yielded, at heart not a little
comforted that the proceedings against him were no worse, though vocally he protested at such ârobbery and
coercion.â

XXII THE OLIVE BRANCH 98

âYe lord it high-handedly now,â he told the party, âbut yeâll sing another song ere long.â

âYerâve been predictinâ thet fer some time,â chuckled Hennion, aggravatingly.

ââT will come all the surer that it comes tardily. âSlow and sure doth make secure,â as yeâll dearly learn.
Weâll soon see how debtors who wonât pay either principal or interest like the law!â

Hennion chuckled again. âYer see, squire,â he said, âit donât seem ter me ter be my interest ter pay principal,
nor my principle ter pay interest. Ef I wuz yer, I would nât het myself over them mogiges; I ainât sweatinâ.â

âIâll sweat ye yet, ye old rascal,â predicted the creditor.

âWhenâll thet be?â asked Hennion.

âWhen we are no longer tyrannised over by a pack of debtors, scoundrels, and Scotch Presbyterians,â with
which remark the squire stamped away.

It must be confessed, however, that bad as the master of Greenwood deemed the political situation, he gave
far more thought to his private affairs. Every day conditions were becoming more unsettled. His overseer had
left his employ to enlist, throwing all care of the farm on the squireâs shoulders; a second bondsman,
emboldened by Charlesâ successful levanting, had done the same, making labourers short-handed; while those
who remained were more eager to find excuses taking them to Brunswick, that they might hear the latest
news, and talk it over, than they were to give their undivided attention to reaping and hoeing. Finally, more
and more tenants failed to appear at Greenwood on rent day, and so the landlord was called upon to ride the
county over, dunning, none too successfully, the delinquent.

Engrossing as all this might be, Mr. Meredith was still too much concerned in public events not to
occasionally find an excuse for riding into Brunswick and learning of their progress; and one evening as he
approached the village, his eyes and ears both informed him that something unusual was in hand, for muskets
were being discharged, great fires were blazing on the green, and camped upon it was a regiment of troops.

Riding up to the tavern, where a rushing business was being done, the squire halted the publican as he was
hurrying past with a handful of mugs, by asking, âWhat does all this mean?â

âLiving jingo, but things is on the bounce,â cried the landlord, excitedly. âHere âs news come that the British
fleet of morân a hundred sail is arrived inside oâ Sandy Hook, anâ all the Jersey militia hez been ordered out,
anâ here âs a whole regiment oâ Pennsylvania âSociators on theer way tew Amboy tew help us fight âem, anâ
more cominâ; anâ as if everythinâ was tew happen all tew once, here âs Congress gone anâ took John Bull by
the horns in real arnest.â The cupbearer-to-man thrust a broadside, which he pulled from his pocket, into the
squireâs hand, and hastened away cellar-ward.

The squire unrumpled the sheet, which was headed in bold-faced type:â

In Congress, July 4, 1776,

A Declaration by the Representatives of the United States of America in General Congress
assembled.

Ere he had more than seen the words, he was interrupted by Joe, who, glass in hand, left the bench and came
to the rider, where, in a low voice, he said:â

XXII THE OLIVE BRANCH 99

âYou see, squire, the independents has outsharped the other party, and got the thing passed before Howe got
here. It was a durned smart trick, and donât leave either side nothing but to fight. I guess ât wonât be long
before youâll be sorry enough you did nât take up with my offer.â

Mr. Meredith, who had divided his attention between what his interlocutor was saying and the sentence,
âWhen, in the course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands
which have connected them with another,â concluded that human events could wait, and ceasing to read, he
gave his attention to the speaker.

âIf ye think to frighten or grieve me, ye are mightily out,â he trumpeted loudly. âHitherto Britain has dealt
gently with ye, but now yeâll feel the full force of her wrath. A six weeks will serve to bring the whole pack
of ye to your knees, whining for pardon.â

The prediction was greeted with a chorus of gibes and protests, and on the instant the squire was the centre of
a struggling mass of militiamen and villagers, who roughly pulled him from his horse. But before they could
do more, the colonel of the troops and the parson interfered, loudly commanding the mob to desist from all
violence; and with ill grace and with muttered threats and angry noddings of heads, the crowd, one by one,
went back to their glasses. That the interference was none too prompt was shown by the condition of the
squire, for his hat, peruke, and ruffles were all lying on the ground in tatters, his coat was ripped down the
back, and one sleeve hung by a mere shred.

âYou do wrong to anger the people unnecessarily, sir,â said Mr. McClave, sternly. âDost court ducking or
other violence? Common prudence should teach you to be wiser.â

The squire hastily climbed into the saddle. From that vantage point he replied, âYe need not think Lambert
Meredith is to be frightened into dumbness. But there are some who will talk smaller ere long.â Then, acting
more prudently than he spoke, he shook his reins and started Joggles homeward.

It was little grief, as can be imagined, that the events of the next few weeks brought to Greenwood; and the
day the news came that Washingtonâs force had been outflanked and successfully driven from its position on
the hills of Brooklyn, with a loss of two of its best brigades, the squire was so jubilant that nothing would do
but to have up a bottle of his best Madeira,â a wine hitherto never served except to guests of distinction.

âGive a knave rope enough and heâll hang himselfâ he said gloatingly. âBecause the land favoured them at
Boston, they got the idea they were invincible, and Congress would have it that New York must be defended,
though a hundred thousand troops could not have done it against the fleet, let alone Howeâs army. Ho! By this
time the rogues have learned what fifteen thousand butchers and bakers and candlestick-makers can do âgainst
thirty thousand veterans. And theyâve had but the first mouthful of the dose theyâll have to swallow.â

The jubilation of the prophet was short-lived, for even as he spoke, and with decanter but half emptied, the
tramp of feet sounded in the hallway, and the door was flung open to admit four men, armed with muskets.

âIn the name of the Continental Congress, and by orders of General Washington, I arrests yer, Lambert
Meredith,â announced the spokesman.

âFor what?â cried Janice.

âFor treason.â

XXII THE OLIVE BRANCH 100

XXIII
HEADQUARTERS IN 1776
On September 15, a group of horsemen, occupying a slight eminence of ground on the island of Manhattan,
were gazing eastward. Below and nearer the water were spread lines ofâ soldiers behind intrenchments, while
from three men-of-war lying in the river came a heavy cannonade that swept the shore line and spread over
the water a pall of smoke which, as it drifted to leeward, obscured the Long Island shore from view.

ââT is evidently a feint, your Excellency,â presently asserted one of the observers, âto cover a genuine attack
elsewhere âmost likely above the Haarlem.â

The person addressedâa man with an anxious, careworn face that made him look fifty at leastâlowered his
glass, but did not reply for some moments. âYou may be right, sir,â he remarked, âthough to me it has the air
of an intended attack. What think you, Reed?â

âI agree with Mifflin. The attack will be higher up. Hah! Look there!â

A rift had come in the smoke, and a column of boats, moving with well-timed oars, could for a moment be
seen as it came forward.

âThey intend a landing at Kipâs Bay, as I surmised,â exclaimed the general. âGentlemen, we shall be needed
below.â He turned to Reed and gave him an order concerning reinforcements, then wheeled and, followed by
the rest, trotted over the ploughed field. Once on the highway, he spurred his horse, putting him to a sharp
canter.

âWhat troops hold the works on the bay, Muffin?â asked one of the riders.

[Illustration: âIâm the prisoner!â]

âFellowsâ and Parsonsâ brigades, Brereton.â

âIf they are as good at fighting as at thieving, theyâll distinguish themselves.â

âAy,â laughed Muffin. âIf the red coats were but chickens or cattle, the New England militia would have had
them all captured ere now.â

âTheyâll be hearn from to-day,â said a third officer. âTheyâve earthworks to git behind, and theyâll give the
British anuther Bunker Hill.â

âThen you ought to be quick, General Putnam,â said Brereton, âfor that âs the fighting you like.â

The road lay in the hollow of the land, and not till the party reached a slight rise were they able once more to
get a glimpse of the shores of the bay. Then it was to find the flotilla well in toward its intended landing-place,
and the American troops retreating in great disorder from their breastworks.

Exclamations of surprise and dismay sprang from the lips of the riders, and their leader, turning his horse,
jumped the fence and galloped across the fields to intercept the fugitives. Five minutes brought them up to the
runaways, who, out of breath with the sharpness of their pace, had come to a halt, and were being formed by
their officers into a little less disorder.

XXIII HEADQUARTERS IN 1776 101

âGeneral Fellows, what was the reason for this shameful retreat?â demanded the general, when within
speaking distance.

âThe men were seized with a panic on the approach of the boats, your Excellency, and could not be held in the
lines.â

Washington faced the regiments, his face blazing with scorn. âYou ran before a shot had been fired! Before
you lost a man, you deserted works that have taken weeks to build, and which could be held against any such
force.â He paused for a moment, and then, drawing his sword, he called with spirit: âWhoâs for recovering
them?â

A faint cheer passed down the lines; but almost as it sounded, the red coats of fifty or sixty light infantry came
into view on the road, a skirmishing party thrown forward from the landing to reconnoitre. Had they been
Howeâs whole army, however, they could not have proved more effective, for instantly the two brigades
broke and dissolved once more into squads of flying men.

At such cowardice, Washington lost all control of himself, and, dashing in among the fugitives, he
passionately struck right and left with the flat of his sword, thundering curses at them; while Putnam and
Muffin, as well as the aides, followed his example. It was hopeless, however, to stay the rush; the men took
the blows and the curses unheeding, while throwing away their guns and scattering in every direction.

Made frantic by such conduct, Washington wheeled his horse. âCharge!â he cried, and rode toward the
enemy, waving his sword.

If the commander-in-chief had hoped to put some of his own courage into the troops by his example, he
failed. Not a man of the runaways ceased fleeing. None the less, as if regardless of consequences in his
desperation, Washington rode on, until one of the aides dashed his spurs into his horse and came up beside his
general at a mad gallop.

âYour Excellency!â he cried, âât is but hopeless and will but end inââ Then, as his superior did not heed him,
he seized the left rein of his horseâs bridle and, pulling on it, swung him about in a large circle, letting go his
hold only when they were riding away from the enemy.

Washington offered no resistance, and rode the hundred yards to where the rest of his staff were standing,
with bowed head. Nothing was said as he rejoined the group, and Blueskin, disappointed in the charge for
which he had shown as much eagerness as his rider, let his mind recur to thoughts of oats; finding no control
in the hand that held his bridle, he set out at an easy trot toward headquarters.

They had not ridden many yards ere Washington lifted his head, the expression of hopelessness, which had
taken the place of that of animation, in turn succeeded by one of stern repose. He issued three orders to as
many of the riders, showing that his mind had not been dwelling idly on the disaster, slipped his sword into its
scabbard, and gathered up his reins again.

âThere!â thought Blueskin, as a new direction was indicated by his bit, âIâm going to have another spell of it
riding all ways of a Sunday, just as we did last night. And it âs coming on to rain.â

Rain it did very quickly; but from post to post the horsemen passed, the sternly silent commander speaking
only when giving the necessary orders to remedy so far as possible the disaster of the afternoon. Not till
eleven, and then in a thoroughly drenched condition, did they reach the Morris House on Haarlem Heights. It
was to no rest, however, that the general arrived; for, as he dismounted, Major Gibbs of his life guards
informed him that the council of war he had called was gathered and only awaited his attendance.

XXIII HEADQUARTERS IN 1776 102

âGet you some supper, gentlemen,â he ordered, to such of his aides as were still of the party, âfor ât is likely
that you will have more riding when the council have deliberated.â

ââT is advice he might take himself to proper advantage,â said one of the juniors, while they were stripping
off their wet coverings in a side room.

âAy,â asserted Brereton. âThe general uses us hard, Tilghman, but he uses himself harder.â Then aloud he
called, âBilly!â

"Yis, sah!"

âMake a glass of rum punch and take it in to his Excellency."

âFoh de Lord, sah, I doan dar go in, anâ yar know marse neber drink no spirits till de dayâs work dun.â

âMake a dish of tea, then, you old coward, and Iâll take it to him so soon as I get these slops off me. âFore
George! How small-clothes stick when they âre wet!â

âYou mean when a man âs so foppish that he will have them made tight enough to display the goodness of his
thighs,â rejoined Gibbs, who, being dry, was enjoying the plight of the rest. âMake yourselves smart,
gentlemen, there are ladies at quarters to-night.â

âYou donât puff that take-in on us, sirrah,â retorted Tilghman.

ââPon honour. They arrived a six hours ago, and have been waiting to see the general.â

âYou may be bound they are old and plain,â prophesied Brereton, âor Gibbs would be squiring them, âstead
of wasting time on us.â

âThere you âre cast,â rejoined the major, âI caught but a glimpse, yet ât was enough to prove to me that all
astronomers lie.â

âHow so?â

âIn saying that but twice in a century is there a transit of Venus.â

âThen why bide you here, man?â

âThatâs the disgustful rub. They were with a man under suspicion, and orders were that none should hold
converse with him before the general examined into it. A plague onât!â

Discussion of Venus was here broken by the announcement of supper, and the make-shift meal was still
unfinished when the generalâs body-servant appeared with the tea. Taking it, Brereton marched boldly to the
council door, and, giving a knock, he went in without awaiting a reply.

The group of anxious-faced men about the table looked up, and Washington, with a frown, demanded, âFor
what do you interrupt us, sir?â

The young officer put the tea down on the map lying in front of the general. âBilly didnât dare take this to
your Excellency, so I made bold to eâen bring it myself.â

XXIII HEADQUARTERS IN 1776 103

âThis is no time for tea, Colonel Brereton.â

ââT is no time for the army to lose their general,â replied the aide. âI pray you drink it, sir, for our sake if you
wonât for your own.â

A kindly look supplanted the sternness of the previous moment on the generalâs face. âI thank you for your
thoughtfulness, Brereton,â he said, raising the cup and pouring some of the steaming drink into the saucer.
Then as the officer started to go, he added, âHold!â Picking up a small bundle of papers which lay on the
table, he continued: âHarrison tells me that there is a prisoner under guard for my examination. I shall scarce
be able to attend to it this evening, and to-morrow is like to be a busy day. Take charge of the matter, and
report to me the moment the council breaks up. Here are the papers.â

Standing in the dim light of the hallway, the aide opened the papers and read them hastily. Either the strain on
the eyes, or some emotion, put a frown on his face, and it was still there as he walked to the door before which
stood a sentry, and passed into a badly lighted room.

âPowerful proud ter meet yer Excellency,â was his greeting from a man in civilian shorts and a military coat,
who held out his hand. âCaptain Bagby desired his compliments ter yer, anâ ter say that legislative dooties
pervented his attindinâ ter the matter hisself.â

Paying no heed to either outstretched hand or words, the officer looked first at a man standing beside the
fireplace and then at the two women, who had risen as he entered. He waited a moment, glancing from one to
the other, as if expecting each of them to speak; but when they did not, he asked gruffly of the guard, though
still with his eyes on the prisoners: âAnd for what were the ladies brought?â

âBecuz they wud nât be left behind on no accaount. Yer see, yer Excellency, things hez been kinder onsettled
in Middlesex Caounty, anâ it hainât been a joyful time to them as wuz Tories; so when orders cum ter bring
old Meredith ter York Island, his wife anâ gal wuz so scarât nothinâ would do but they must come along.â

âAy,â spoke up the man by the fireplace, bitterly. âA nice pass yeâve brought things to, that women dare not
tarry in their own homes for fear of insult.â

âYou may go,â said the officer to the captor, pointing at the door.

âAinât I ter hear the âzamination, yer Excellency?â demanded the man, regretfully. âThe hull caounty is sot
on knownâ ther facâs.â But as the hand still pointed to the entrance, the man passed reluctantly through it.

Taking a seat shadowed from the dim light of the solitary candle, the officer asked: âYou are aware, Mr.
Meredith, on what charge you are in military custody?â

âNot I,â growled the master of Greenwood. âFor more than a year gone Iâve taken no part in affairs, but ât is
all of a piece with ye Whigs thatâto trump up a charge againstââ

âThis is no trumpery accusation,â interrupted the officer. âI hold here a letter to Sir William Howe, found
after our army took possession of Boston, signed by one Clowes, and conveying vastly important information
as to our lack of powder, which he states he obtained through you.â

âNow a pox on the villain!â cried the squire. âHas he not tried to do me enough harm in other ways, but he
must add this to it? Janice, see the evil yeâve wrought.â

XXIII HEADQUARTERS IN 1776 104

âOh, dadda,â cried the girl, desperately, âI know I wasâ was a wicked creature, but Iâve been sorry, and
suffered for it, and I donât think ât is fair to blame me for this. âT was not I who brought himââ

âSilence, miss!â interrupted her mother. âWouldst sauce thy father in his trouble?â

âI presume you obtained the knowledge Clowes transmitted from your daughter?â surmised the officer.

âMy daughter? Not I! How could a chit of a girl know aught of such things? Clowes got it from young
Hennion, and devil a thing had I really to do with it, write what he pleases.â

âPray take chairs, ladies,â suggested the aide, with more politeness. âNow, sir, unravel this matter, so far as ât
is known to you.â

When the squireâs brief tale of how the information was obtained and forwarded to Boston was told, the
officer was silent for some moments. Then he asked: âHast had word of Clowes since then?â

âNot sight or word since the night theââ

âOh, dadda,â moaned Janice, âplease donât!â

âSince he attempted to steal my girl from me. And if eâer I meet him I trust Iâll have my horsewhip handy.â

âIs Hennion where we can lay hold upon him?â

âNot he. âT was impossible for him to get out of Boston, try his best, and the last word we had of himâwrote
to his rascally fatherâwas that heâd âlisted in Rugglesâ loyalists.â

âThen the only man we can bring to heel is this bond-servant of thine.â

âNot even he. The scamp took French leave, and if ye want him ye must search your own army.

"Canst aid us to find him?â

âI know naught of him, or his doings, save that last June I received the price I paid for his bond, through
Parson McClave, who perhaps can give ye word of him.â

The officer rose, saying: âMr. Meredith, I shall report on your case to the general, so soon as he is free, and
have small doubt that you will be acquitted of blame and released. I fear me you will find headquartersâ
hospitality somewhat wanting in comfort, for weâre oâercrowded, and you arrive in times of difficulty. But
Iâll try to see that the ladies get a room, and, whatever comes, ât will be better than the guard-house.â He went
to the hall door and called, âGrayson!â

âWell?â shouted back some one.

âThere are two ladies to be lodged here for the night. May I offer them our room?â

âAy. And my compliments to them, and say they may have my company along with it, if they be youngish.â

âTut, man,â answered Brereton, reprovingly. âNone of your Virginian freeness, for they can hear you.â He
turned and said: âYou must be content with a deal feather-bed on the floor here, Mr. Meredith, but if the
ladies will follow me I will see that they are bestowed in more comfortable quarters;â and he led the way

XXIII HEADQUARTERS IN 1776 105

upstairs, where, lighting a candle, he showed them to a small room, very much cluttered by military clothes
and weapons, thrown about in every direction. âI apologise, ladies,â he remarked; âbut for days it âs been ride
and fight, till when sleeping hours came ât was bad enough to get oneâs clothes off, let alone put them tidy.â

âAnd indeed, sir, there is no need of apology,â responded Mrs. Meredith, warmly, âsave for us, for robbing
you of the little comfort you possess.â

ââT is a pleasure amid all the strife we live in to be able to do a service,â replied the officer, gallantly, as he
bowed low over Mrs. Meredithâs hand and then kissed it. He turned to the girl and did the same. âMay you
rest well,â he added, and left the room.

âOh, mommy!â exclaimed Janice, âdidst ever see a more distinguished or finer-shaped man? And his dress
and manners areââ

âJanice Meredith! Wilt never give thy thoughts to something else than men?â

âWell, Brereton,â asked Tilghman as the aide joined his fellow-soldiers, âhow did his Excellency take your
boldness?â

âAs punishment he sent me to examine Gibbsâ Venus.â

âDevil take your luck!â swore Gibbs. âIâll be bound ye made it none too short. Gaze at the smug look on the
dandyâs face.â

Brereton laughed gleefully as he stripped off his coat and rolled it up into a pillow. âIâve just kissed mammaâs
hand,â he remarked.

âI canât say much for thy taste!â

âIn order,â coolly went on Brereton, as he stretched himself flat on the floor, âthat I might then kiss that of
Venusâ and over hers I did not hurry, lads. Therefore, gentlemen, my present taste is, despite Gibbsâ slur,
most excellent, and I expect sweet dreams till his Excellency wants me. Silence in the ranks.â

XXIV
THE VALUE OF A FRIEND
As the sun rose on the following morning, Brereton came cantering up to headquarters. âIs his Excellency
gone?â he demanded of the sentry, and received reply that Washington had ridden away toward the south ten
minutes before. Leaving his horse with the man, the aide ran into the house and returned in a moment with a
great hunk of corn bread and two sausages in his hand. Springing into the saddle, he set off at a rapid trot,
munching voraciously as he rode.

âSteady, dear lass,â he remarked to the mare. âIf you make me lose any of this cake, Iâll never forgive you,
Janice.â

Fifteen minutes served to bring the officer to a group of horsemen busy with field-glasses. Riding into their
midst, he saluted, and said: âThe Maryland regiments are in position, your Excellency.â Then falling a little
back, he looked out over the plain stretched before them. Barely had he taken in the two Continental
regiments lying âat easeâ half-way down the heights on which he was, and the line of their pickets on the level
ground, when three companies of red-coated light infantry debouched from the woods that covered the

XXIV THE VALUE OF A FRIEND 106

corresponding heights to the southward. As the skirmishers fell back on their supports, the British winded
their bugles triumphantly, sounding, not a military order, but the fox-hunting âstole away,ââa blare intended to
show their utter contempt for the Americans.

Washingtonâs cheeks flushed as the derisive notes came floating up the hills, and he pressed his lips together
in an attempt to hide the mortification the insult cost him. âThey do not intend we shall forget yesterday,â he
said.

âWeâll pay them dear for the insult yet,â cried Brereton, hotly.

ââT is a point gained that they think us beneath contempt,â muttered Grayson; âfor that is half-way to beating
them.â

âColonel Reed, order three battalions of Weedonâs and Knowltonâs rangers to move along under cover of the
woods, and endeavour to get in the rear of their main party,â directed the commander-in-chief after a
momentâs discussion with Generals Greene and Putnam. âAs you know the ground, guide them yourself.â

âPlague take his luck!â growled Brereton.

âHa, ha!â laughed Tilghman, jeeringly. âSome of us have hands to kiss and some regiments to fight. Harkee,
macaroni. The general thinks ât would be a pity to spot those modish buskins and gloves. So much for thy
dandyism.â

âColonel Brereton,â said the general, âorder the two Maryland regiments to move up in support of Knowlton.â

Brereton saluted, and, as he wheeled, touched his thumb to his nose at Tilghman. âYou are dished,â he
whispered. âThe general dresses too well himself to misjudge a man because he tries to keep neat and à la
mode.â

A quarter of an hour later, as battalions of Griffithsâ and Richardsâ regiments advanced under guidance of
Brereton, the sharpness of the volleys in their front showed that the fighting was begun; and in response to his
order, they broke into double-quick time. Once out of the timber, it was to find the Connecticut rangers
scattered in small groups wherever cover was to be had, but pouring in a hot fire at the enemy, who had been
reinforced materially.

âDamn them!â cried Brereton. âWill they never fight except under cover?â Louder he shouted: âForward!
Charge them, boys!â The order given, he rode toward the rangers. âWhereâs your colonel?â he shouted.

âDead,â cried one, âand there âs no one to tell us what to do.â

âDo?â roared the aide. âGet out from behind that cover, and be damned to you. Show that Connecticut does
nât always skulk. Come on!â

A cheer broke out, and, without even stopping to form, the men went forward, driving the enemy into the
woods for shelter, and then forcing them through it. The fire of the British slackened as they fell back, and
when new Continental troops appeared on their right flank as well, the retreat became almost a rout.

âWeâll drive them the length of the island,â yelled Brereton, frantic with excitement, as the men went
clambering up the rocks after the flying enemy.

XXIV THE VALUE OF A FRIEND 107

âColonel Brereton, his Excellency directs you to call in the regiments to their former position,â shouted
Grayson, cantering up.

Brereton swore forcibly before he galloped among the men, and even after they, in obedience to his orders,
had fallen back slowly and taken up their original position, he growled to the aide as they began the ascent,
âIâm sick of this over-caution, Grayson! What inââ

âThe general was right,â asserted Grayson. âLook there.â He pointed over the treetops that they had now risen
above to where columns of Royal Highlanders and Hessian Yagers were hastening forward at double-quick.
âYou would have had a sharp skimper-scamper hadst been allowed to go another half-mile.â

ââT is too bad, though,â sighed the young officer, âthat when the men will fight they have to be checked.â

âBe thankful you did your double-quick in the cool of the morning, and are done with it. Lord! it makes me
sweat just to see the way they are hurrying those poor Yagers. âT is evident weâve given them a real scare.â

Upon reaching the top of the height Brereton rode forward to where Washington still stood. âI tried to have
theâstole awayâ sounded, your Excellency,â he said exultingly, âbut those who knew it were so out of breath
chasing them that there was not a man to wind it.â

Washingtonâs eyes lighted up as he smiled at the enthusiasm of the young fellow. âAt least you may be sure
that they had less wind than you, for they ran farther. Theyâve had the best reply to their insult we could give
them.â

âThet there fox they wuz gwine tu hunt did a bit of huntinâ hisself,â chuckled Putnam.

âThey are still falling back on their supports,â remarked Greene. âEvidently there is to be no more fighting
to-day.â

âTheyâve had their bellyful, I guess,â surmised Putnam.

âThen they âre better off than I am,â groaned Brereton. âI could eat an ox.â

When the fact became obvious that the British had no intention of renewing their intended attack, a general
move was made toward quarters, and as they rode Brereton pushed up beside Washington and talked with him
for a moment.

The commander ended the interview by nodding his head. âColonel Tilghman,â he ordered, as Brereton
dropped behind, âride on to announce our coming; also present my compliments to Mr. Meredith and bespeak
his company and that of his ladies to dinner.â

Mrs. Meredith and Janice, not having gone to bed till after one the previous night, slept until they were
wakened by the firing; and when they had dressed and descended it was to find headquarters practically
deserted, save for the squire and a corporal âs guard. At the suggestion of the servant who gave them
breakfast, they climbed to the cupola of the house, but all they could see of the skirmish were the little clouds
of smoke that rose above the trees and the distant advance of the British reinforcements. Presently even these
ceased or passed from view, and then succeeded what Janice thought a very âmopishâ two hours, terminated
at last by the arrival of the aide with his invitation, which sent her to her room for a little extra prinking.

âIf I had only worn my lutestring,â she sighed. Her toilet finished,âand the process had been lengthened by the
trembling of her hands,âJanice descended falteringly to go through the hall to the veranda. In the doorway she

XXIV THE VALUE OF A FRIEND 108

paused, really taken aback by the number of men grouped about on the grass; and she stood there, with fifty
eyes turned upon her, the picture of embarrassment, hesitating whether to run away and hide.

âCome hither, child,â called her mother; and Janice, with a burning face and down-turned eyes, sped to her
side. âThis is my daughter Janice, your Excellency,â she told the tall man with whom she had been speaking.

âIndeed, madam,â said Washington, bowing politely over the girl âs hand, and then looking her in the face
with pleasure. âMy staff has had quite danger enough this morning without my subjecting them to this new
menace. However, being lads of spirit, they will only blame me if I seek to spare them. Look at the eagerness
of the blades for the engagement,â he added with a laugh, as he turned to where the youngsters were idling
about within call.

âOh, your Excellency!â gasped Janice, âIâIâplease may nât I talk to you?â

âJanice!â reproved her mother.

âOh! I did nât mean that, of course,â faltered the girl. ââT was monstrous bold, and I only wantedââ

âNay, my child,â corrected the general. âLet an old man think it was intended. Mrs. Meredith, if youâll
forgive the pas, Iâll glad General Greene with the privilege of your hand to the table, while the young lady
honours me with hers. Never fear for me, Miss Janice,â he added, smiling; âthe young rascals will be in a
killing mood, but they dare not challenge their commander. There, Iâll spare your blushes by joking you no
more. I hope you were not greatly discomforted in your accommodation?â he asked, as they took their seats at
the long table under the tent on the lawn.

âNo, indeed, your Excellency. One of thy staffâI know not his name, but the one who questioned daddaâwas
vastly polite, and gave his room to us.â

âThat was Colonel Brereton,âthe beau of my family. Look at him there! Wouldst think the coxcomb was in
the charge this morning?â

Janice, for the first time, found courage to raise her eyes and glance along what to her seemed a sea of menâs
faces, till they settled on the person Washington indicated. Then she gave so loud an exclamation of surprise
that every one looked at her. Conscious of this, she was once more seized with stage fright, and longed to slip
from her chair and hide herself under the table.

âWhat startled thee, my child?â asked the general.

âOhâheânothingââ she gasped. âWhoâwhat didst thou say was his name?â

âJohn Brereton.â

âOh!â was all Janice replied, as she drew a long breath.

ââT will neâer do to let him know youâve honoured him by particular notice,â remarked the commander; âfor
both at Boston and New York the ladies have pulled caps for him to such an extent that ât is like heâll grow so
fat with vanity that heâll soon be unable to sit his horse.â

âIsâis he a Virginian, your Excellency?â

âNo. âT is thought heâs English.â

XXIV THE VALUE OF A FRIEND 109

Janice longed to ask more questions, but did not dare, and as the bottle passed, the conversation became
general, permitting her to become a listener. When the moment came for the ladies to withdraw, she followed
her mother.

âOh, mommy!â she said the instant she could, âdidst recognise Charles?â

âCharles! What Charles?â

âCharles Fownesâour bond-servantâColonel Brereton.â

âNonsense, child! What maggot idea hast thee got now?â

ââT is he trulyâand I never thought he could be handsome. But his being clean-shaven and wearing a wigââ

âNo more of thy silly clack!â ordered her mother. âA runaway bond-servant on his Excellencyâs staff, quotha!
Though he does head the rebels, General Washington is a man of breeding and would never allow that.â

Before the men rose from the table the ladies were joined by Washington and Mr. Meredith.

âI have already expressed my regrets to your husband, Mrs. Meredith,â said the general, âthat a suspicion
against him should have put you all to such material discomfort, and I desire to repeat them to you. Yet
however greatly I mourn the error for your sake, for my own it is somewhat balanced by the pleasure you
have afforded me by your company. Indeed, ât is with a certain regret that I received Colonel Breretonâs
report, which, by completely exonerating Mr. Meredith, is like to deprive us of your presence.â

âYour Excellency is over-kind,â replied Mrs. Meredith, with an ease that excited the envy of her daughter.

âThe general has ordered his barge for us, my dear,â said the squire, âand ât is best that we get across the river
while there âs daylight, if we hope to be back at Greenwood by to-morrow evening.â

Farewells were promptly made, and, under the escort of Major Gibbs, they set out for the river. Once in the
boat, Janice launched into an ecstatic eulogium on the commander-in-chief.

âAy,â assented Mr. Meredith; âthe general âs a fine man in bad company. âT is a mortal shame to think heâs
like to come to the gallows.â

âDadda! No!â

âYes. They put a bold face on ât, but after yesterdayâs defeat they canât hold the island another week; and
when they lose it the rebellion is split, and that âs an end to ât. âT will be all over in a month, mark me.â

Janice pulled a very serious face for a moment, and then asked: âDidst notice Colonel Brereton, dadda?â

âAy. And a polite man he is. He not merely had us released, but I have in my pocket a protection from the
general he got for me.â

âDidst not recognise him?â

âRecognise? Who? What?â

âOh, nothing,â replied Janice.

XXIV THE VALUE OF A FRIEND 110

XXV
FREEDOM IN RETROGRADE
The departure of the Merediths for headquarters under arrest had set Brunswick agog, and all sorts of surmises
as to their probable guilt and fate had given the gossips much to talk of; their return, three days later, not
merely unpunished, but with a protection from the commander-in-chief, set the village clacks still more
industriously at work.

Events were moving so rapidly, however, that local affairs were quickly submerged. News of Washingtonâs
abandonment of the island of New York and retreat into Westchester, pursued by Howeâs army, of the capture
of Fort Washington and its garrison, of the evacuation of Fort Lee, of the steady dwindling of the Continental
Army by the expiration of the terms of enlistment, and still more by wholesale desertions, reached the little
community in various forms. But interesting though all this was for discussion at the tavern of an evening, or
to fill in the vacant hour between the double service on a Sunday, it was still too distant to seem quite real,
and so the stay-at-home farmers peacefully completed the getting in of their harvests, while the housewives
baked and spun as of yore, both conscious of the conflict more through the gaps in the village society, caused
by the absences of their more belligerently inclined neighbours, than from the actual clash of war.

The absent ones, it is needless to say, were the doughty warriors of the âInvincibles,â who had been called
into service along with the rest of the New Jersey militia when Howeâs fleet had anchored in the bay of New
York three months before, and who had since formed part of the troops defending the towns of Amboy and
Elizabethport, but a few miles away, from the possible descent of the British forces lying on Staten Island.
This arrangement not only spared them from all active service, thus saving the parents and wives of
Brunswick from serious anxiety, but also permitted frequent home visits, with or without furlough, thus
supplying the town with its chief means of news.

An end came, however, to this period of quiet. Early in November vague rumours, growing presently to
specific statements, told the villagers that their day was approaching. The British troops on Staten Island were
steadily reinforced; the small boats of the line-of-battle ships and frigates were gathered opposite Amboy and
Paulus Hook; large supplies of forage and cattle were massed at various points. Everything betokened an
intended descent of the royal army into New Jersey; that the new-made State was to be baptised with blood.

The successive defeats of the Continental army wonderfully cooled many of the townspeople who but a few
months before had vigorously applauded and saluted the glowing lines of the Declaration of Independence,
when it had been read aloud to them by the Rev. Mr. McClave. One of the first evidences of this alteration of
outward manner, if not of inward faith, was shown in the sudden change adopted by the community toward
the household of Greenwood. When the squire had departed in custody he apparently possessed not one friend
in Brunswick, but within a month of his return the villagers, the parson excepted, were making bows to him,
in the growing obsequiousness of which might be inferred the growing desperation of the Continental cause.
Yet another indication was the appearance of certain of the,â Invincibles,â who came straggling sheepishly
into town one by oneââJust ter see how all the folks wuzââand who, for reasons they kept more private, failed
to rejoin their company after having satisfied their curiosity. Most incriminating of all, however, was the
return of Bagby from the session of the Legislature then being held in Princeton, and his failure to go to
Amboy to take command of his once gloried-in company.

ââT would nât be right to take the ordering away from Zerubbabel just when there âs a chance for fighting,
after heâs done the work all summer,â was the captainâs explanation of his conduct; and though his townsmen
may have suspected another motive, they were all too bent on staying at home themselves, and were too busy
taking in sail on the possibility of having to go about on another tack, to question his reasons.

XXV FREEDOM IN RETROGRADE 111

If the mountain would not go, Mahomet would come; and one evening late in November, while the wind
whistled and the rain beat outside the âContinental Tavern,â as it was now termed, the occupants of the public
room suddenly ceased from the plying of glasses and pipes, upon the hurried entrance of a man.

âThe British is cominâ!â he bellowed, bringing every man to his feet by the words.

âHow does yer know?â demanded Squire Hennion.

âI wuz down ter the river ter see if my boat wuz tied fast enuf ter stand the blow anâ I hearn the tramp of
snogers cominâ across the bridge.â

âThe bridge!â shouted Bagby. âThen they must beâ Swamp it! there is nât more than time enough to run.â

Clearly he spoke truly, for even as he ended his sentence the still unclosed door was filled by armed men. A
cry of terror broke from the tavern frequenters, but in another moment this was exchanged for others of relief
and welcome, when man after man entered and proved himself to be none other than an invincible.

âHow, now, Leftenant Buntling?â demanded Bagby, in an attempt to regain his dignity. âWhat is the meaning
of this return without orders?â

âThe British landed a swipe oâ men at Amboy this morninâ, makinâ us fall back mighty quick ter
Bonumtown, anâ there, arter the orficers confabulated, it wuz decided thet as the bloody-backs wuz too strong
ter fight, the militia and the flyinâ camp thereabouts hed better go home anâ look ter their families. Anâ so we
uns come off with the rest.â

âYou mean to say,â asked Joe, âthat you did nât strike one blow for freedom; did nât fire one shot at the tools
of the tyrant?â

âOh, cut it, Joe,â growled one of the privates. âThet âere talk duz fer the tavern and fer election times, but ât
ainât worth a darn when yeâve marched twenty miles on an empty stomick. Set the drinks up fer us, or keep
quiet.â

âThat I will for you all,â responded Bagby, âand what âs more, the whole room shall tipple at my expense.â

No more drinks were ordered, however; for a second time the occupants of the room were startled by the door
being thrown open quickly to give entrance to a man wrapped in a riding cloak, but whose hat and boots both
bespoke the officer.

âPut your house in readiness for General Washington and his staff, landlord,â the new-comer ordered sharply.
âThey will be here shortly, and will want supper and lodgings.â He turned in the doorway and called: âGet
firewood from where you can, Colonel Hand, and kindle beacon fires at both ends of the bridge, to light the
waggons and the rest of the forces; throw out patrols on the river road both to north and south, and quarter
your regiment in the village barns.â Then he added in a lower voice to a soldier who stood holding a horse at
the door: âPut Janice in the church shed, Spalding; rub her down, and see to it that she gets a measure of oats
and a bunch of fodder.â He turned and strode to the fire, his boots squelching as he walked, as if in complaint
at their besoaked condition. Hanging his hat upon the candle hook on one side of the chimney breast and his
cloak on the other, he stood revealed a well-dressed officer, in the uniform of a Continental colonel.

It had taken the roomful a moment to recover their equipoise after the fright, but now Squire Hennion spoke
up:

XXV FREEDOM IN RETROGRADE 112

âSo yer retreatinâ some more, hey?â

The officer, who had been facing the fire in an evident attempt to dry and warm himself, faced about sharply:
âRetreat!â he answered bitterly. âCan you do anything else with troops who wonât fight; who in the most
critical moment desert by fifties, by hundreds, ay, by whole regiments? Six thousand men have left us since
we crossed into Jersey. A brigade of your own troopsâof the State we had come to fight forâleft us yesterday
morning, when news came that Cornwallis was advancing upon our position at Newark. What can we do but
retreat?â

âWell, may I be dummed!â ejaculated Bagby, âif it is nât Squire Meredithâs runaway bondsman, and dressed
as fine as a fivepence!â

The officer laughed scornfully. âAy,â he assented. ââT is the fashion of the land to run away, so ât is only Ã
la mode that bondsmen and slaves should imitate their betters.â

âYer need nât mount us Americans so hard, seemâ as yer took mortal good care ter git in the front ranks of
them as wuz retreatinâ,â asserted an Invincible.

I undertook to guide the retreat, because I knew the roads of the region,â retorted the officer, hotly, evidently
stung by the remark; then he laughed savagely and continued: âAnd how comes it, gentlemen all, that you are
not gloriously serving your country? Cornwallis, with nine thousand picked infantry, is but a twenty miles to
the northward; Knyphausen and six thousand Hessians landed at Perth Amboy this morning, and would have
got between us and Philadelphia but for our rapid retreat. Canst sit and booze yourself with flip and swizzle
when there are such opportunities for valour? Hast forgotten the chorus you were for ever singing?â Brereton
sang out with spirit:â

ââIn Freedom weâre born, and, like Sons of the Brave,

Weâll never surrender,
But swear to defend her,
And scorn to survive, if unable to save.ââ

ââT ainât no good fighting when we hav nât a general,â snarled Bagby.

âNow damn you for a pack of dirty, low-minded curs!â swore the officer, his face blazing with anger. âHere
youâve a general who is risking life, and fortune, and station; and then you blame him because he cannot with
a handful of raw troops defeat thirty thousand regulars. Thereâs not a general in Europeânot the great
Frederick himselfâwhoâd so much as have tried to make head against such odds, much less have done so
much with so little. After a whole summer campaign what have the British to show? Theyâve gained the
territory within gunshot of their fleet; but at White Plains, though they were four to one, they dared not attack
us, and valiantly turned tail about, preferring to overrun undefended country to assaulting our position. I tell
you General Washington is the honestest, bravest, most unselfish man in the world, and you are a pack ofââ

âAre my quarters ready, Colonel Brereton?â asked a tall man, standing in the doorway.

âThis way, yer Excellency,â obsequiously cried the landlord, catching up a candle and coming out from
behind the bar. âIâve set apart our settinâ-room and our bestest room âthet âere with the tester bedâfor yer
honourable Excellency.â

âCome with me, Colonel Brereton,â ordered the general, as he followed the publican.

XXV FREEDOM IN RETROGRADE 113

Motioning the tavern-keeper out of the room, Washington threw aside his wet cloak and hat, and taking from
a pocket what looked like a piece of canvas, he unfolded and spread it out on the table, revealing a large folio
map of New Jersey.

âYou know the country,â he said; âshow me where the Raritan can be forded.â

âHere, here, and here,â replied Brereton, indicating with his finger the points. âBut this rain to-night will
probably so swell it that thereâll be no crossing for come a two days.â

âThen if we destroy the bridge Cornwallis cannot cross for the present?â

âNo, your Excellency. But if ât is their policy to again try to outflank us, theyâll send troops from Staten
Island by boat to South Amboy; and by a forced march through Monmouth they can seize Princeton and
Trenton, while Cornwallis holds us here.â

ââT is evident, then, that we can make no stand except at the Delaware, should they seek to get in our rear.
Orders must be sent to secure all the boats in that river, and toââ

A knock at the door interrupted him, and in reply to his âCome in,â an officer entered, and, saluting, said
hurriedly: âGeneral Greene directs me to inform your Excellency that word has reached him that a brigade of
the New Jersey militia have deserted and have seized and taken with them the larger part of the baggage train.
The commissary reports that the stores saved will barely feed the forces one day more.â

Washington stood silent for a moment. âI will send a message back to General Greene by you presently. In the
meantime join my family, who are Supping, Major Williams.â Then, when the officer had left the room, the
commander sat down at the table and rested his head on his hand, as if weary. âSuch want of spirit and
fortitude, such disaffection and treachery, show the game to be pretty well up,â he muttered to himself.

Brereton who had fallen back at the entrance of the aide, once more came to the table. âYour Excellency,â he
said, âwe are but losing the fair-weather men, who are really no help, and what is left will be tried troops and
true.â

âLeft to starve!â

âThis is a region of plenty. But give me the word, and in one day Iâll have beef and corn enough to keep the
army for a three months.â

âThey refuse to sell for Continental money.â

âThen impress.â

âIt must come to that, I fear. Yet it will make the farmers enemies to the cause.â

âNo more than they are now, I wot,â sneered the aide. âAnd if you leave them their crops ât will be but for
them to sell to the British. âT is a war necessity.â

Washington rose, the momentâs discouragement already conquered and his face set determinedly. âGive
orders to Hazlett and Hand to despatch foraging parties at dawn, to seize all cattle, pigs, corn, wheat, or flour
they may find, save enough for the necessities of the people, and to impress horses and wagons in which to
transport them. Then join us at supper.â

XXV FREEDOM IN RETROGRADE 114

Brereton saluted, and turned, but as he did so Washington again spoke:â

âI overheard what you were saying in the public room, Brereton,â he said. âSome of my own aides are
traducing me in secret, and making favour with other generals by praising them and criticising me, against the
possibility that I may be superseded. But I learned that I have one faithful man.â

âAh, your Excellency,â impulsively cried the young officer, starting forward, âât is a worthless life,âwhich
brought disgrace to mother, to father, and to self; but what it is, is yours.â

âThank you, my boy,â replied Washington, laying his hand affectionately on Breretonâs shoulder. âAs you
say, ât is a time which winnows the chaff from the wheat. I thank God He has sent some wheat to me.â And
there were tears in the generalâs eyes as he spoke.

XXVI
NECESSITY KNOWS NO LAWS
While the family of Greenwood were still at the breakfast-table on the following morning, they were startled
by a shriek from the kitchen, and then by Peg and Sukey bursting into the room where they sat.

âOh, marse,â gasped the cook, âde British!â

Both the squire and Janice sprang to the windows, to see a file of soldiers, accompanied by a mounted officer,
drawn up at the rear of the house. As they took this in, the line broke into squads, one of which marched
toward the stable, a second toward the barn, while the third disappeared round the corner of the house. With
an exclamation the squire hurried to the kitchen and intrenched himself in the door just as the party reached it.

âWho are ye, and by what right do ye trespass on my property?â he demanded.

âGit out of the way, ole man,â ordered the sergeant. âWe hev orders ter take a look at yer store-room and
cellar, anâ we haânât got no time to argify.â

âYeâll not get into my cellar, that I can tellââ began the squire; but his remark ended in a howl of pain, as the
officer dropped the butt of his musket heavily on the squireâs toes. The agony was sufficient to make the
owner of Greenwood collapse into a sitting position on the upper step and fall to nursing the injured member.

Janice, who had followed her father into the kitchen, sprang forward with a cry of sympathy and fright, just as
the mounted officer, who had heard the squireâs yell, came trotting round the corner.

âNo violence, sergeant!â he called sternly.

[Illustration: âTrenton is unguarded. Advance!â]

âNot a bit, sir,â replied the aggressor. âOne of the boys happened ter drop his muskit on the old gentlemanâs
corns, anâ I was apologisinâ fer his carelessness.â

âYou dreadful liar!â cried Janice, hotly, turning from her attempted comforting of the squire. âHe did it
onâoh!â She abruptly ended her speech as the mounted officer uncovered and bowed to her, and the âOh!â
was spoken as she recognised him. âCharlesâColonel Brereton!â the girl exclaimed.

âCharles!â exclaimed Mrs. Meredith, coming to the door. âHoighty toighty, if it is nât!â

XXVI NECESSITY KNOWS NO LAWS 115

âI am very sorry that we are compelled to impress food, Mrs. Meredith,â said the aide; âbut as it is useless to
resist I trust you will not make the necessity needlessly unpleasant.â

âYe âre a pack of ruffians and thieves!â cried the squire.

âNay, Mr. Meredith,â answered the aide, quietly; âwe pay for it.â

âIn paper money that wonât be worth a penny in the pound, come a month.â

âThat remains to be seen,â responded the officer.

ââT is quite of a piece that a runaway redemptioner should return with other thieves and rob his master!â
fumed the owner of Greenwood.

Brereton grew red, and retorted: âI am not in command of this force, and rode out with them at some sacrifice
to save you from possible violence or unnecessary discomfort. Since you choose to insult me, I will not
remain. Do your duty, sergeant,â was the officerâs parting injunction as he wheeled his horse and started
toward the road.

âStick him with yer bagonet, Pelatiah,â ordered the sergeant, motioning toward the squire, who, still sitting in
the doorway, very effectually blocked the way. Pelatiah, duly obedient, pricked the well-developed calf of the
master of Greenwood, bringing that individual to his feet with another howl, which drew sympathetic shrieks
from Mrs. Meredith and Janice.

Evidently the cries made it impossible for Colonel Brereton to hold to his intention, for he once again turned
his horse and came riding back. By the time he reached the door the squire had been shoved to one side, and
the men could be heard ransacking the larder and cellar none too quietly.

âThough you slight my services,â the aide explained, âIâll bide for the present.â

Meanwhile the parties that had been detached to the other points could be seen harnessing oxen and horses to
the hay cart, farm waggons, and even the big coach, and loading them from the corn-crib and barn. Presently
the cortege started for the house, and here more stores of various kinds were loaded.

During the whole of this operation the squire kept busily expressing his opinions of the proceedings of the
foragers, of the army to which they belonged, and of the Continental cause generally, which, but for the
presence of the staff officer, would have probably led to his ducking in the horse trough, or to some other
expression of the partyâs displeasure.

âI see ye take good care to steal all my horses, so that I shall not be able to ride to Brunswick and report ye to
the commander,â he railed, just as the last armful of hams and sides of bacon was thrown into the coach. âWe
heard tales of how ye robbed and plundered about York, unbeknownst to the general, and Iâve no doubt ye are
thieving now without his knowledge.â

âIf you want to get to Brunswick you shall have a lift,â offered the aide. âWeâll drive you there, and Iâll see to
it that you have a horse to bring you back.â

âAy. And leave my wife and daughter to be outraged by you villainous Whigs.â

Again Brereton lost his temper. âI challenge you to prove one case of our army insulting a woman,â he cried.
âAnd hast heard of the doings of the last few days? Of the conduct of British soldiers to the women of

XXVI NECESSITY KNOWS NO LAWS 116

Hackensack and Elizabethtown, or of the brutality of the Hessians at Rahway? At this very moment Mr.
Collins is printing for us broadsides of the affidavits of the poor miserable victims, in the hopes that we can
rouse the country by them.â

ââT is nothing but a big Whig clanker, Iâll be bound!â snorted Mr. Meredith.

âI would for the sake of manhood they were!â said the officer. âI was once proud to be a British soldierââ he
checked himself sharply, and then went on: âIf you fear for Mrs. Meredith and Miss Janice, take them with
you. Iâll see to it that you all return in comfort.â

Although the squire had no particular fear of the safety of his womankind, he did not choose to confess it after
what he had said; and so, without more ado, his wife and daughter were ordered to don their calashes and
cloaks. Then the odd-looking caravan, of five vehicles, nine cows, and four squealing pigs, started,âMrs.
Meredith and Janice and the squire seated on the box of the coach, while the driver bestrode one of the horses.

The excitement of the drive was delightful to Janice, and it was not lessened by what she heard. The aide rode
beside the coach, and at first tried to engage her in conversation, but the girl was too shy and self-conscious to
talk easily to him, and so it ended in chat between the officer and Mr. and Mrs. Meredith, in which he told of
how he had secured his position on the staff of the general, and gave an outline history of the siege of Boston,
the campaigning about New York, and the retreat to Brunswick.

âI knew the rake-hells âud never fight,â asserted the squire, at one point.

âLike all green troops, they object to discipline, and have shown cowardice in the face of the enemy. But the
British would not dare say as much as you say, after the lessons theyâve had. The fault is mainly with the
officers, who, by the system of election or appointment, are chiefly politicians and popularity-seekers not fit
to black boots, much less command companies and regiments. Here in this town, the life was sapped out of
the âInvinciblesâ by their own officers; but the parson went among the men this morning, and the best of them
formed a new company under him and enlisted for the year. And those who helped me take the powder to
Cambridge volunteered, and have proved good men. All they need are good officers to make them good
soldiers.â

âWhat did ye with that rogue Evatt?â demanded the squire, his mind recalled to the subject by the allusion to
the powder; and Janice hastily caught hold of the fore-string of her calash to pull the headgear forward so that
her face should be hidden from the aide. Yet she listened to the reply with an attentive if red face.

âOur kidnapping of him not being easy to justify, I did not choose to take him to Cambridge and so, when we
spoke a brig outside Newport, bound for Madeira, I eâen bargained his passage on her. âT is naturally the last
I ever heard of him.â

Then poor Janice had to hear her father and mother express their thanks to the officer and berate the runaway
pair; and the painful subject was abandoned only when they drove into Brunswick, where its interest could not
compete with that of the masses of soldiers camped on the green, the batteries of artillery planted along the
river front, and the general hurly-burly everywhere.

âYou had best sit where you are, ladies,â the aide remarked, âfor the inn is full of men;â and the two accepted
his suggestion, and from their coign of vantage surveyed the scene, while the squire, tumbling off the waggon,
demanded word with the commander-in-chief.

âIâll tell him you wish speech with him,â said Brereton, dismounting and going into the tavern.

XXVI NECESSITY KNOWS NO LAWS 117

It is only human when one is in misery to take a certain satisfaction in finding that misfortune is not a personal
monopoly. While the squire waited to pour out his complaint, he found farmer after farmer standing about
with similar intent; and, greatly comforted by the grievances of his neighbors, he became almost joyous when
Squire Hennion, following a long line of carts loaded with his yearâs harvest, added himself to the scene, and
with oaths and wails sought in turn to express his anger and misery.

âTew rob a genuine Son oâ Liberty,â he whined, âez hez allus stood by the cause! The general shall hear oâ ât.
Iâm ruined. Iâll starve. Iâllââ

âHo, ho!â laughed Mr. Meredith, heartily. âSo sitting on both sides donât pay, eh? And a good serve out it is
to ye, ye old trimmer. What! object to paper dollars, when ye are so warm a Whig? What if they are only
worth two shillings in the pound, specie? Liberty for ever! Ho, ho! This is worth the trip to Brunswick alone.â

Colonel Brereton came out of the tavern with a paper in his hand, and called the squire aside.

âMr. Meredith,â he said in a low voice, his face eager, yet worn with anxiety, âI find that since I left camp this
morning the rest of the New Jersey and all of the Maryland flying camps have refused to stay, and have left
us, though Cornwallisâs advance is at Piscataway, and as he is pushing forward by forced marches he will
reach the Raritan within two hours.â

âNo doubt, no doubt,â assented the squire, gleefully. âAnother week will put him in Philadelphia, and then ye
rebels will dance for it. No wonder ye look frighted, man.â

âI am not scared on my own account,â replied the officer, bitterly. âA dozen bullets, whether in battle or
standing blindfold against a white wall, are all the same to me. Iâll take the gallows itself, if it comes, and say
good quittance.â

âAy,â grunted Mr. Meredith, âgo on. Tip us a good touch of the heroics.â

The aide smiled, but then went on anxiously: âBut what I do fear, and why I tell you what I do, is forâforâfor
Mrs. Meredith andâThe loss of this force leaves us barely three thousand men to fight Cornwallisâs and
Knyphausenâs fifteen thousand. We shall burn the bridge within the hour, but that will scarce check them, and
so we must retreat to the Delaware.â

âAnd how does this affect me?â

âEvery hour brings us word of the horrible excesses of the British soldiery. No woman seems safe fromâFor
Godâs sake, Mr. Meredith, donât remain here! But go with our army, and Iâll pledge you my word you shall
be safe and as comfortable as it is in my power to make you.â

âTush! British officers neverââ

ââT is not the officers, but the common soldiers who straggle from the lines for plunder andâwhile the pigs of
Hessians and Waldeckers, sold by their princes at so much per head, cannot be controlled, even by their own
officers. See, here, is the broadside of which I spoke. I have seen every affidavit, and swear to you that they
are genuine. Donâtâyou canât risk such a fate for Mrs. Meredith orââ Brereton stopped, unable to say more,
and thrust the paper he held in his hand into that of the squire.

âIâll have none of your Whig lies puffed on me!â persisted the squire, obstinately.

XXVI NECESSITY KNOWS NO LAWS 118

The officer started to argue; but as he did so the gallop of a horseâs feet was heard, and Colonel Laurens came
dashing up. Throwing himself from the saddle, he flung into the tavern; and that he brought important news
was so evident that Brereton hurriedly left Mr. Meredith and followed. Barely a moment passed when aide
after aide issued from the inn, and, mounting, spurred away in various directions. The results were immediate.
The carts were hurriedly put in train and started southward on the Princeton post-road, smoke began to rise
from the bridge, the batteries limbered up, and the regiments on the green fell in and then stood at ease.

While these obvious preparations for a retreat were in progress a coloured man appeared, leading so
handsome and powerful a horse that Janice, who had much of her fatherâs taste, gave a cry of pleasure and,
jumping from her perch, went forward to stroke the beastâs nose.

âWhat a beauty!â she cried.

âYes, miss, dat Blueskin,â replied the darky, grinning proudly. âHe de finest horse from de Mount Vernon
stud, but he great villain, jusâ de same. He so obstropolus when he hear de guns dat the ginâl kianât use him,
anâ has tu ride ole Nelson when dyars gwine tu be any fightinâ.â

Janice leaned forward and kissed the âgreat villainâ on his soft nose, and then turned to find the general
standing in the doorway watching her.

âI have not time to attend to your complaints, gentlemen,â he announced to the two esquires and the group of
farmers, all of whom started forward at his appearance. âFile your statements and claims with the
commissary-general, and in due time theyâll receive attention.â Then he came toward his horse, and as he
recognised the not easily forgotten face he uncovered. âI trust Miss Janice remembers me!â he said, a smile
succeeding the careworn look of the previous moment, and added: âHad ye been kind, yeâd have kept that
caress for the master.â

Janice coloured, but replied with a mixture of assurance and shyness: âBlueskin could not ask for it, but your
Excellencyââ Then she paused and coloured still more.

Washington laughed, and, stooping, kissed her hand. âBeing a married man, must limit the amount of his
yielding to temptation,â he said, finishing the sentence for the girl. âI would I were to have the honour of your
company at dinner once more, but your friends, the British, will not give us the time. So I must mount and say
farewell.â

Janice turned an eager face up to the general, as he swung himself into the saddle. âOh, your Excellency,â she
exclaimed below her breath, âdadda would think it very wicked of me, but I hope youâll beat them!â

Washingtonâs face lighted up, and, leaning over, he once more kissed her hand. âThank you for the wish, my
child,â he said, and, giving Blueskin the spur, rode toward the river.

âIf Philemon was only like his Excellency!â thought the girl.

XXVII
A CHECK TO THE ENEMY
There followed a weary hour of waiting, while first the carts, then the artillery, and finally the few hundred
ill-clad, weary men filed off on the post-road. Before the rear-guard had begun its march, British regiments
could be discerned across the river, and presently a battery came trotting down to the opposite shore, and a
moment later the guns were in position to protect a crossing. This accomplished, a squadron of light dragoons

XXVII A CHECK TO THE ENEMY 119

rode into the water and struck boldly across, a number of boats setting out at the same moment, each laden
with redcoats. While they were yet in mid-stream the Continental bugles sounded the retreat, and the last
American regiment marched across the green and disappeared from view.

Owing to the fact that the coach had not been parked with the waggons, but had been brought to the tavern
door, the baggage-train had moved off without it,âa circumstance, needless to say, which did not sadden the
squire. It so happened that the vehicle had stopped immediately under the composite portrait sign-board of the
inn; and no sooner was the last American regiment lost to view than the publican appeared, equipped with a
paint-pot and brush, and, muttering an apology to the owner of the coach, now seated beside his wife and
daughter on the box, he climbed upon the roof and, by a few crude strokes, altered the lettering from âGen.
George the Good into âKing George the Good.â But he did not attempt to change the firm chin and the strong
forehead the bondsman had added to the face.

Barely was the operation finished when the British light horse came wading out of the water and cantered up
the river road to the green, the uniforms and helmets flashing brilliantly, the harness jingling, and the swords
clanking merrily.

âThere are troops worth talking about,â cried the squire, enthusiastically.

He spoke too quickly, for the moment the âdismountâ sounded, twenty men were about the coach.

âToo good horses for a damned American!â shouted one, and a dozen hands were unharnessing them on the
instant. âA load of prog, boys!â gleefully shouted a second, and both doors were flung open, and the soldiers
were quickly crowding each other in their endeavours to get a share. âEgad!â announced another, âbut Iâll
have a tousel and a buss from yon lass on the box.â âWell said!â cried a fourth, and both sprang on the wheel,
as a first step to the attainment of their wishes.

Mr. Meredith, from the box, had been shrieking affirmations of his loyalty to King George without the
slightest heed being paid to him; but there is a limit to passivity, and as the two men on the wheel struggled
which should first gain the desired prize, the squire kicked out twice with his foot in rapid succession, sending
both disputants back into the crowd of troopers. Howls of rage arose on all sides; and it would have fared
badly with the master of Greenwood had not the noise brought an officer up.

âHere, here!â he cried sharply, âwhat âs all this pother about?â

ââT is a damned Whig, who isââ

âA lie!â roared the squire. âThere is no better subject of King George living than Lambert Meredith.â

The officer jeered. âThatâs what every rebel claims of late. Not one breathes in the land, if youâd but believe
the words of you turncoats.â

ââT is not a lie,â spoke up Janice, her face blazing with temper and her fists clinched as if she intended to use
them. âDadda alwaysââ

âHo!â exclaimed the officer, âwhat a pretty wench! Art a rebel, too? for if so, Iâll see to it that guard duty falls
to me. Come, black eyes, one kiss, and Iâll send the men to right about.â

Janice caught the whip from its socket and raised it threateningly, just as another officer from a newly arrived
company came spurring up and, without warning, began to strike right and left with the flat of his sword. âOff
with you, you damned rapscallions!â he shouted. âLeftenant Bromhead, where are your manners?â

XXVII A CHECK TO THE ENEMY 120

âAnd where are yours, Mr. Hennion, that ye dare speak so to your superior officer?â demanded the lieutenant.

There was no mistaking Philemon, changed though he was. He wore a fashionable wig, and his clothes fitted
well a figure that, once shambling and loose-jointed, had now all the erectness of the soldier, but the face was
unchanged.

âIâll not quarrel with you now,â swaggered Philemon. âIf you want ter fight later Iâm your man, anâ if you
want ter go before Colonel Harcourt with a complaint Iâll face you. But now Iâve other matters.â He turned to
the trio on the box, and exclaimed as he doffed his hat: âWell, squire, didst ever expect sight of me again?
Anâ how do Mrs. Meredith and Janice? Strap my vitals, if Iâve seen such beauty since I left Brunswick,â he
added airily, and making Janice feel very much put out of countenance.

âWelcome, Philemon!â cried Mrs. Meredith, âand doubly welcome at such a moment.â

âAy,â shouted the squire, heartily. âYe arrived just in the nick oâ time to save your bride, Phil.â A remark
which sent the whip rattling to the ground from the hands of Janice. âAnâ ye a kingâs officer!â he ended.
âBubble your story to us, lad.â

âThere ainât much ter tell as you donât know already. Sir William put no faith in the news I carried, thinkinâ
it but a Whig trick, and so they held me prisoner. But later, when ât was too late ter use it, they learned the
word I brought them was true; so they set me free, and as there was no gettinâ away from Boston, the general
gave me a cornetcy, that I should not starve.â

âIâll lay to it that thereâll be no more starvation now that you âre back home,â cried the squire, âthough
betwixt your cheating old sire, whoâll pay no interest on his mortgages, and the merchants gone bankrupt in
York, and now this loss of harvest and stock, ât is like Greenwood will show but a lean larder for a time. But
mayhaps now that yeâve gone up in the world, yeâd like to cry off from the bargain?â

âBut let me finish the campaign by capturinâ Philadelphia, and dispersinâ Washingtonâs pack of peddlers and
jail-birds, which wonât take morân a fortnight, and then you canât name a day too soon for me, anâ I hope not
for your daughter. You canât call me gawk any longer, I reckon, Janice?â

âThou camst nigh to losing her, Phil,â declared Mrs. Meredith.

âAy,â added the squire. âHast heard of how that scoundrel Evatt schemed

âOh, dadda!â moaned Janice, imploringly.

âNo scoundrel is he, squire, nor farmer neither; he beinâ Lord Clowes,â asserted Phil. âHe joined our army at
New York, and is Sir Williamâs commissary-general anâ right-hand man.â

A more effectual interruption than that of the girlâs prevented Mr. Meredith from enlarging upon the theme,
for the bugle sounded in quick succession the âassemblyâ and âboots and saddles.â

âThat calls me,â announced Phil, with an air of importance. âWe ainât goinâ ter give the runaways no rest,
you see.â

âBut Phil,â cried the squire, âyeâll not leave us to be againâAnd theyâve stole Joggles and Jumper, and all my
hams and sides. Ye mustââ

XXVII A CHECK TO THE ENEMY 121

âI canât bide now,â called back the cornet, hurriedly taking his position just as the bugle called the marching
order, and the squadron moved off after the retreating Continentals.

Helpless to move, the Merediths sat on their coach while an officer, accompanied by a file of soldiers and half
a dozen drummers, took station at the Town Hall. First a broadside was posted on the bulletin-board, and the
drums beat the âparleyâ long and loudly. Then the drummers and the file split into two parties, and marching
down the village street in opposite directions, the non-commissioned officers, to the beat of drum, shouted
summons to all the population to assemble at the hall to take the oath of allegiance to âKing George the Third,
by the grace of God, of Great Britain, France, and Ireland, King, Defender of the Faith, and so forth.â

The first man to step forward to take the oath, sign the submission, and receive his pardon was the Hon.
Joseph Bagby, erstwhile member of the Assembly of New Jersey, but now loudly declaring his loyalty to the
crown, and his joy that âthings were to be put in order again.â The second signer was the publican; the third
was Esquire Hennion; and after him came all the townsmen, save those who had thrown in their lot along with
the parson that morning by marching off with Washington.

Mr. Meredith descended from his seat and waited his turn to go through what was to him a form, and during
this time the ladies watched the troops being ferried across the river. Presently an officer rode up the river
road, issuing orders to the regiments, which promptly fell in, while the rider halted at the tavern, announced
the soon-to-be-expected arrival of Generals Howe and Cornwallis, and bade the landlord prepare his best
cheer. While he spoke a large barge landed its burden of men and horses on the shore, and a moment later a
dozen officers came trotting up to the tavern between lines of men with their guns at âpresent arms.â

âWhat ho! Well met, friend Meredith,â cried one of the new-comers, as the group halted at the tavern. âI was
but just telling Sir William that the king had one good friend in Brunswick town, and now here he is!â Evatt,
or Clowes, swung out of the saddle and extended his hand.

Although the squire had just recovered the whip dropped by Janice, he did not keep to his intention of laying
it across the shoulders of the would-be abductor, but instead grasped the hand offered.

âWell met, indeed,â he assented cordially. ââT is a glad sight to us to see our good kingâs colours and troops.â

âSir William,â called the baron, âthou must know Mr. Lambert Meredith, first, because heâs the one friend
our king has in this town, and next, because, as thy commissary, I forbid thee to dine at the tavern on the vile
fried pork or bubble and squeak, and the stinking whiskey or rum thouâlt be served with, and, in Mr.
Meredithâs name, invite thee and his Lordship to eat a dinner at Greenwood, where thouâlt have the best of
victuals, washed down with Madeira fit for Bacchus.â

âAy,â cried Mr. Meredith, âthe rebels have done their best to bring famine to Greenwood, but it shall spread
its best to any of his Majestyâs servants.â

âHere âs loyalty indeed,â said Sir William, heartily, as he leaned in his saddle to shake the squireâs hand.
âDamn your rebel submissions and oaths, not worth the paper they âre writ on; but good Madeira,âthat
smacks loyal and true on a parched tongue and cannot swear false. Lead the way, Mr. Meredith, and weâll do
as much justice to your wine as later weâll do to Mr. Washington, if we can ever come up with him. Eh,
Charles?â

The officer addressed, who was frowning, gave an impatient movement in the saddle that seemed to convey
dissent. âOf what use was our forced march,â he demanded, âif not to come up with the fox before he finds
cover?â

XXVII A CHECK TO THE ENEMY 122

âNay, the rebels are so little hampered by baggage that they can outstrip all save our light horse. And because
they have the legs of us is no reason for our starving ourselves; the further they run, the more exhausted
theyâll be.â

âWell argued,â chimed in Clowes. âAnd your Excellency will find more at Greenwood than mere meat and
drink. Come, squire, name your dame and Miss Janice to Sir William. In playing quadrille to win, man, we
never hold back the queens.â

All the horsemen uncovered to the ladies, as they were introduced, and Howe uttered an admiring epithet as
his eyes fixed on the girl. âThe Queen of Hearts scores, and the game is won,â he cried, bowing low to Janice.
âHo, Charles, art as hot for the rebels as thou wert a moment since?â

âI still think the light horse had best be pushed, and should be properly supported by the grenadiers.â

âNay, wait till Knyphausen comes up, and then weâllââ

ââT is no time to play a waiting game.â

âTush! Lord Cornwallis,â replied Sir William, irritably. âThe infantry have done their twenty miles to-day.
Iâll not jade my troops into the runaway state of the rebels. What use to kill our men, when the rebellion is
collapsing of itself?â During all his argument the commander-in-chief kept his eyes fixed on Janice.

âI canât but thinkââ began the earl.

âCome, come, man,â interjected Howe, âwe must nât let the Whigs beat us by starvation. Must we, eh, Mr.
Meredith?â

ââT would be a sad end to all our hopes,â assented the squire. âAnd while we have to do with the rebels, let
me point out to ye the two most malignant in this town. There stand the precious pair who have done more to
foment disloyalty than any other two men in the county.â It is needless to say that Mr. Meredith was pointing
at Squire Hennion and Bagby, who, more curiously than wisely, had lingered at the tavern.

âHe lies!â and ââT ainât so! shrieked Bagby and Hennion in unison, and each began protestations of loyalty,
which were cut short by Sir William, who turned to Cornwallis and ordered the two under arrest, pending
further information.

âNow weâll see justice,â chuckled the master of Greenwood, gleefully. âIf yeâll not pay interest on your
debts, Iâll pay interest on mineâay, and with a hangmanâs cord belike.â

âBut I signed a submission and oath, and here âs my pardon,â protested Bagby, producing the paper, an
example that Hennion imitated.

âDamn Campbellâs carelessness!â swore Howe. âHe deals pardons as he would cards at piquet, by twos,
without so much as a look at their faces. A glance at either would have shown both to be rapscallion Whigs.
However, ât is done, and not to be undone. Release them, but keep eye on each, and if they give the slightest
cause, to the guardhouse with them. Now, Mr. Meredith.â

âI must ask your Excellencyâs assistance to horse my coach, and his Majesty owes me a pair not easy to
match, stole by your troops this very morning.â

XXVII A CHECK TO THE ENEMY 123

âMake note of it, Mr. Commissary, and see to it that Mr. Meredith has the two returned, with proper
compensation. And, Charles, if the theft can be fixed, let the men have a hundred stripes apiece. Unless a stop
can be put to this plundering and raping, weâll have a second rebellion on our hands.â

Cornwallis shrugged his shoulders and issued the necessary orders. Then horses being secured for the
carriage, the squire and dames, accompanied by the generals, set out for Greenwood.

It was long past the customary dining hour when the house was reached, and though Mrs. Meredith and Janice
joined Sukey and Peg in the hurried preparation of the meal, it was not till after three that it could be
announced. As a consequence, before the men had tired of the Madeira, dark had come. One unfortunate of
the staff was therefore despatched to order the regiments to bivouac for the night.

âTell the commissaries to issue an extra ration of rum,â directed Sir William, made generously minded by the
generous use of the wine. âAnd now, friend Lambert, let âs have in the spirits, and if it but equal thy Madeira
in quality weâll sing a Te Deum and make a night of it.â

Janice, at a call from the host, brought in the squat decanters; and the general insisted, with a look which told
his admiration, that his first glass should be mixed by the girl.

âNay, nay,â he cried, checking her as she reached for the loaf sugar.â âPut it to thy lips, and ât will be sweeter
than any sugar can make it. Take but a sip and give us a toast along with it.â And the general caught at the
girlâs free hand and tried to put his other arm about her waist.

âOh, fie, Sir William!â called Clowes, too flushed with wine to guard his tongue. âWhat will Mrs. Loring
think of such talk?â

âThink! Let her think what she may,â retorted the general, with a laugh. âDost thou not know that woman is
never sweeter than when she is doubtful of her empire?â

Janice, with heightened colour and angry eyes, eluded Howeâs familiarities by a backward step, and, raising
the glass, defiantly gave, âSuccess to Washington!â Then, scared at her own temerity, she darted from the
room, in her fright carrying away the tumbler of spirits. But she need not have fled, for her toast only called
forth an uproarious burst of laughter.

âI always said ât was a rebellion of petticoats,â chuckled Sir William. âAnd small blame to them when they
sought to tax their only drink. âFore George, Iâd rebel myself if they went to taxing good spirits unfairly. Ah,
gentlemen, after we have finished with Mr. Washington next week, what sweet work ât will be to bring the
caps to a proper submission! No wonder Cornwallis is hot to push on and have done with the men.â

The morrow found Sir William no less inclined to tarry than he had been the day before, and, using the plea
that they would await the arrival of Knyphausenâs force, he sent orders to the advance to remain bivouacked
at Brunswick, much to the disgust of Cornwallis, who was little mollified by the consent he finally wrung
from his superior to push forward the Light Horse on a reconnoissance,âa task on which he at once departed.

Thus rid of his disagreeable spur, the general settled down before the parlour fire to a game of piquet with
Clowes, not a little to the scandalising of card-hating Mrs. Meredith. Worse still to the mother, nothing would
do Sir William but for Janice to come and score for him, and it is to be confessed that his attention was more
devoted to the black of her eyes and the red of her cheeks than it was to the same colours on the cards. Three
times he unguarded a king in the minor hand, and twice he was capoted unnecessarily. As a result, the baron
won easily; but the gain in purse did not seem to cheer him, for he looked discontented even as he pocketed
his winnings. And as every gallant speech his commander made the girl had deepened this look, the cause for

XXVII A CHECK TO THE ENEMY 124

the feeling was not far to seek.

Dinner eaten, the general, without leaving the table, lapsed into gentle, if somewhat noisy, slumber; and his
superior thus disposed of for the moment, Clowes sought Janice, only to find that two young fellows of the
staff, having abandoned the bottle before him, had the longer been enjoying her society. He joined the group,
but, as on the preceding evening, Janice chose to ignore his presence. What he did not know was something
said before his entrance, which had much to do with the girlâs determination to punish him.

âWho is this person who is so intimate with Sir William?â she had asked the staff secretary.

McKenzie gave his fellow-staffsman a quick glance which, manlike, he thought the girl would not perceive.
âHe âs commissary-general of the forces,â he then replied.

Janice shrugged her shoulders. âThank you for enlightening my ignorance,â she said ironically. âLet me add
in payment for the information that this is a spinet.â

Again McKenzie exchanged a look with Balfour. The latter, however, after a glance at the door, said, in a low
voice: âHe âs no favourite with us; that you may be sure.â

âHeâIs heâIs Baron Clowes his true name?â Janice questioned.

âMore true than most things about him,â muttered McKenzie.

âThen he has another name?â persisted the girl.

âA half-dozen, no doubt,â assented Balfour. âThere are dirty things to be done in every kind of work, Miss
Meredith, and there are always dirty men ready to do them. Iâd not waste thought on him. Knaves go to make
up a complete pack as much as kings, you know,â he finished, as Lord Clowes entered the room.

Cornwallis returned at nightfall, with word of the junction of reinforcements; but, despite the news, it required
all the urgence of himself and Clowes to induce the commander-in-chief to give the marching order for the
next morning. Nor, when the hour of departure came, was Howe less reluctant, lingering over his adieux with
his host and hostess, and especially with their daughter, to an extent which set the earl stamping with
impatience and put a scowl on Clowesâ face. Even when the general was in the saddle, nothing would do him
but he must have a stirrup cup; and when this had been secured, he demanded another toast of the girl.

âYou gave Mr. Washington your good wishes last time, Miss Janice, runaway though he was. Canst not give a
toast for the troops that donât run?â he pleaded.

Janice, with a roguish look in her eyes that boded no good to the British, took the glass, and, touching it to her
lips, said: âHere âs to the army which never runs away, and which neverââ Then she paused, and caught her
breath as if wanting courage.

âOut with it! Complete the toast!â cried the general, eagerly.

âAnd which never runs after!â ended Janice.

XXVII A CHECK TO THE ENEMY 125

XXVIII
THE EBB-TIDE
Clowes lingered behind for a brief moment after the departure of Howe, in pretended desire to advise Mr.
Meredith concerning the British policy about provisions and forage, but in truth to say a word of warning
which proved that he already regretted having secured for his commander-in-chief the entrée of
Greenwood.

âI heard Sir William say heâd bide with ye on his return from Philadelphia,â the commissary told the squire in
parting. âHave an eye to your girl, if he does. Though a married man, his Excellency is led off by every
lacing-string that comes within reach.â

The master of Greenwood privately thought that the precautionary advice as to his daughter might come with
better grace from some other source; but both guest and host, for reasons best known to each, had tacitly
agreed to ignore the past, and so the squire thanked his counsellor.

âYeâll not forget to seek out my horses!â he added, when the commissary picked up his bridle.

âAssuredly not,â promised Clowes. âHow many didst say ye lost?â

âTwo. All the Whig thieves left to me of the nine I had.â

âFudge, man! Say nothing of the Whig thieves, but lay them all to our account. Weâve plunderers in plenty in
our own force, let alone the dirty pigs of Hessians, and King George shall pay for the whole nine.â

âNay, Lord Clowes, because Iâve been robbed, Iâll not turnââ began the squire.

[Illustration: âHeâd make a proper husband.â]

âWhat is more,â went on the benevolently-inclined officer, âI will tell ye something that will be worth many a
pound. âT was decided betwixt Sir William and myself that we should seize all provisions and fodder
throughout the province. But I need scarce sayââ

âSurely, man, thou wilt do nothing as crazy as that,â burst out Mr. Meredith. âDost not see that it will make an
enemy of every man, from one endââ

âWhich they are already,â interrupted the baron, in turn. ââT is our method of bringing punishment home to
the scamps. Weâll teach them what rebellion comes to ere we have finished with them. But, of course, such
order does not extend to my personal friends, and if ye have any fodder or corn, or anything else ye can spare,
I will see to it that his Majesty buys it at prices that will more than make good to ye what ye lost through the
rebels.â

The squire made a motion of dissent. âThe Whig rascals have swept my barn and storehouses so clean that Iâll
have to buy for my own needs, andââ

âThen buy what ye can hereabout before we begin seizing, and see to it that ye buy a good surplus which ye
can sell to us at a handsome advance. Our good king is a good pay-master, and Iâll show ye what it is to have
a friend in the commissariat.â With this Clowes put spurs to his horse, confident that he had more than offset
any prejudice against him that might still exist in Mr. Meredithâs mind. None the less, that individual stood
for some moments on the porch with knitted brows, gazing after the departing horseman and when he finally

XXVIII THE EBB-TIDE 126

turned to go into the house he gave a shake to his head that seemed to express dissatisfaction.

Although Mr. Meredith did not act upon the commissaryâs suggestion in securing a supply of provisions,
there was quickly no lack of food or forage at Greenwood. From the moment that Brunswick was occupied by
the British, every one of Mr. Meredithâs tenants, who for varying periods had refused to pay rent, adopted a
different course and wholly or in part settled up the arrears owing. Most of them first endeavoured to liquidate
the claim in the Continental currency, now depreciated through the desperation of the American cause to a
point that made it scarcely worth the paper on which its pseudo-value was stamped. The squire, however, with
many a jeer and flout at each would-be payer for his folly in having taken the money, and his still greater
foolishness in expecting to pay rent on leaseholds with it, declined to accept it. His refusal of each tender,
which indeed had been expected, was usually followed by a second offer of payment in the form of fodder or
provisions, or âin kind,â as the leases then expressed it; and the moment the rumour went through the
community that the British were forcibly seizing provisions, every farmer hastened to save his entire surplus
by paying it to his landlord.

Nothing better proved the hopeless outlook of the American cause than the conduct of Esquire Hennion, for
that worthy rode to Greenwood, and after a vain attempt, like that of the tenants, to pay in the worthless paper
money the arrears of interest on his mortgages, with a like refusal by Mr. Meredith, he completely broke
down, and with snivels and wails besought his âdear ole friendâ to be lenient and forbearing. âI made a
mistake, squire,â he pleaded; âbut I allus liked yer, anâ Phil he likes yer, anâ naow yerâre too ginerous ter
push things too far, I knows.â

âHuh!â grunted the creditor. âI said Iâd make ye cry small, ye old trimmer. So it âs no longer to your interest
to pay principal, or your principle to pay interest, eh? No, I wonât push ye too far! Iâll only turn ye out of
Boxely and let ye be farmed on the town as a pauper. If I had the dealing with ye, yeâd be in the provost
prison at York awaiting trial as a traitor. And my generosity would run to just six feet of rope.â

Of the tide of war only vague rumours came back to the non-combatants, until at noon, a week later, Sir
William, accompanied by two aides and an escort of dragoons, came cantering up.

âIn the kingâs name, dinner!â he cried cheerily, as he shook the welcoming hand of the squire. âYou see, Mr.
Meredith, weâve forgot neither your loyalty nor your Madeira. No, nor your dainty lass, either; and so we are
here again to levy taxation without representation on them all. âT is to be hoped, Mrs. Meredith, that ât will be
met more kindly than our Parliamentary attempt at the same game. Ah, Miss Janice, your face is a pleasant
sight to look at after the bleak banks of the Delaware, at which weâve been staring and cursing for the last five
days.â

âWe hoped to hear of ye as in Philadelphia before this, Sir William,â said the squire, so soon as they were
seated at the table.

âAy, and so did we all; but Mr. Washington was too quick and sharp for us. By the time we had reached
Trenton, he had got safely across the river, and had taken with him or destroyed all the boats.â

âCould ye not have forded the river higher up?â

âCornwallis was hot for attempting something of the sort, but sight of the ice-floes in the river served to cool
him, so he is going into winter quarters and will not stir from his cantonments until spring, unless the river
freeze strong enough for him to cross on the ice.â

âAnd what of the rebels?â

XXVIII THE EBB-TIDE 127

ââT is sudden gone so out of fashion there is scarce one left. Washington has a few ragged troops watching us
from across the river; but, except for these, there âs not a man in the land who will own himself one. How
many pardons have we issued in the Jerseys alone, Henry?â demanded the general, appealing to his secretary.

âNigh four thousand; and at Trenton and Burlington, Mr. Meredith, the people are flocking in in such numbers
that over four hundred took the kingâs oath yesterday,â responded McKenzie.

âThat shows how the wind holds, and what a summerâs squall the whole thing has been,â answered the host,
gleefully; âI always said ât was a big windy bubble, that needed but the prick of British bayonets to collapse.â

âThereâll be little left of it by spring, I doubt not,â asserted Howe. âIn faith, we may take it as a providence
that we could not cross the Delaware, for a three-months will probably put an end to all armed opposition, and
we may march into Pennsylvania with beating drums and flying colours. Even Cornwallis himself confesses
that time is playing our game.â

âMiss Meredith will be put to ât to find a new toast,â suggested Balfour.

âWell spoke,â laughed his superior. âWhat will it be, fair rebel?â

âHowever,â asserted Janice.

âBravo!â vociferated the general. âNow indeed rebellion is on its last legs. You make me regret I can tarry but
the meal, for when submission is so near ât is a pity not to stay and complete it.â

âWas that why you left the Delaware, your Excellency?â asked Janice, archly.

The colour came flushing into Howeâs cheeks, while both father and mother spoke sharply to the girl for her
boldness and impertinence. But in a moment the generalâs good-nature was once more in the ascendant, and
he interfered to save her from the scolding.

âNay, nay,â he interjected. ââT was but a proper retort to my teasing. I left the Delaware, Miss Janice, because
the âBruneâ frigate sails for England in three days, and there are despatches to be writ and sent by her. And
for the same reason I can tarry here but another hour, much as I should like to stay. Mr. Meredith, ât is a
manâs duty to aid a creditor to pay his debts. May I not hope to see you and Mrs. Meredith and Miss Janice at
headquarters ere long? For if you come not willingly, Iâll put Miss Janice under arrest as an arrant and
avowed rebel, and have her brought to York under guard.â

The departure of these guests gave but a brief quiet to the household, for two days later, at dusk, Clowes rode
up, and his coming was welcomed all the more warmly that his escort of half a dozen dragoons led with them
Joggles and Jumper.

âHave in, have in, man,â cried the host, genially, âto where there âs a fire and something to warm your vitals.â

âCurse thy climate!â ejaculated the new-comer, as he stamped and shook himself in the hallway, to rid his
shoulders and boots of their burden of snow. âThe storm came on after we started; and six hours it âs took us
to ride from Princeton, while the wind blew so I feared the cattle would founder. But here âs warmth enough
to make up for the weather,â he added, as he entered the parlour, all aglow with the light of the great blazing
logs, and of the brushwood and corn-cobs which Janice had thrown on their top when the horses had first been
heard at the door. He shook Mrs. Meredithâs hand, and then extended his own to Janice, only to have it
ignored by her. In spite of this, and of an erect attitude, meant to express both distance and haughtiness, her
flushed cheeks, and eyes that looked everywhere except into those of the visitor, proved that the girl was not

XXVIII THE EBB-TIDE 128

as unmoved as she wished to appear.

âWhere are thy manners, Jan?â reproved the father, who, having declared an amnesty as regarded the past,
forgot that his daughter might not be equally forgiving.

âGive Mr.âLord Clowes thy hand, child,â commanded her mother, sternly, âand place a seat for him by the
fire.â

Janice pulled one of the chairs nearer to the chimney breast, and then returned to the quilting-frame, at which
she had been working when the interruption came.

âDidst hear me?â demanded Mrs. Meredith.

Janice turned and faced the three bravely, though her voice trembled a little as she replied: âI will not shake
his hand.â

âYoicks! Here âs a kettle of fish!â ejaculated the commissary. âWhatâs wrong?â

âJanice, do as thou art told, or go to thy room,â ordered the mother.

The girl opened her lips as if about to protest, but courage failed her, and she hurriedly left the parlour, and
flying to her room, she threw herself on the bed and wept out her sense of wrong on her pillow.

âI never would have, if he had nâtâand it was nât I asked him to the houseâand he took a mean advantageâand
he was nât scolded for it, nor shamed to all the peopleâand now they show him every honour, though
heâthough for a year it was held up to me.â

Presently the girl became conscious of the clatter of knives and forks on plates in the room beneath her, and of
an accompaniment of cheerful voices and laughter. Far from lessening her woe, they only served to intensify
it, till finally she rose in a kind of desperation, wishing only to escape from the merry sounds. âIâll go and see
Clarion and Joggles and Jumper,â she thought. âThey love me, andâand they donât punish me when others are
to blame.â

Not choosing to pass through the kitchen, where the dragoons would probably be sitting, she stole out of the
front door, without wrap or calash, and in an instant was almost swept off her feet and nearly blinded by the
rush of wind and snow. Heeding neither, nor the instant wetting of her slippered feet, she struggled on through
the waxing drifts to the stable door. With a sigh of relief that the goal was attained, she passed through the
partly open doorway and paused at last, breathless from her exertion.

On the instant she caught her breath, however, and then demanded, âWho âs there?â A whinny from Joggles
was the only response. Taking no heed of the horseâs greeting, Janice stood, listening intently for a repetition
of the sound that had alarmed her. âI heard you,â she continued, after a moment. Then she gave a little cry of
fright, which was scarcely uttered when it was succeeded by a half-sob and half-exclamation of mingled joy
and relief. âOh, Clarion!â she exclaimed, âyou gave me such a turn, with your cold nose. And what was
mommyâs darling doing with the harness? I thought some one was here.â

Again Joggles whinnied, and, her fright entirely gone, Janice walked to his stall. âWas my precious glad to get
back?â she asked, patting him on the back as she went into the stall. âWhy, my poor dear! Did they go to their
supper without even taking his saddle off? Well, he shouldâ and his bridle, too, so that he could nât eat his
hay! âT was a shame, andââ Once again, Janice uttered an exclamation of fright, as her fingers, moving
blindly forward in search of the buckle, came in contact with some cloth, under which she felt a manâs arm.

XXVIII THE EBB-TIDE 129

Nor was her fright lessened, though she did not scream, when instantly her arm in turn was seized firmly. The
unknown peril is always the most terrifying.

âI did not want to frighten you, Miss Janiceââ began the interloper.

âCharles!â ejaculated the girl. âI mean, Colonel Brereton.â

âI thought you âd scarcely come into the stall, and hoped to get away undiscovered.â

âBut what are youâI thought you were acrossâHow did you get here?â

âI had business to the northward,â explained the officer, âand meant to have been in Bound Brook by this
time. But the cursed snow came on, and, not having travelled the westerly roads, I thought best to keep to
those with which I was familiar, though knowing full well that I ran the risk of landing in the arms of the
British. Fortunately their troops are no fonder of facing our American weather than our American riflemen,
and tucked themselves within doors, leaving it to usââ There the aide checked his flow of words.

âBut why did you come here?â

Brereton laughed. âDoes not a runaway servant always turn horse thief? My mare has covered near forty miles
to-day, the last ten of it in the face of this storm, and so I left her at the Van Meter barn, and thought to borrow
Joggles to ride on to Morristown to do the rest.â Colonel Breretonâs hand, which had continued on the girlâs
arm, relaxed its firm hold, and slipped down till it held her fingers. âAnd then, IâI wanted word of you, for the
stories of Hessian doings that come to us are enough to make any man anxious.â Janice felt his lips on her
hand. âAll is well with you?â he asked eagerly, after the caress.

Janice, forgetful of her recent woe, answered in the affirmative, as she tried to draw herself away. Her attempt
only led to the manâs hand on hers tightening its grip. âI canât let you go, Miss Janice, till you give me your
word not to speak of this meeting. They could scarce catch me such a night, but my mission is too vital to take
any risks.â

âI promise,â acceded Janice, readily.

Brereton let go her hand at once, and his fingers rattled the bit, as he hastily completed the buckling the girlâs
entrance had interrupted. âIf I never return, you will claim your namesake, my mare, Miss Janice,â he
suggested as he backed Joggles out of the stall. âAnd treat her well, I beg you. Sheâs the one thing that has
any love for me. God knows if I ever see her again.

Forgetting that Brereton could not see her, Janice nodded her head. âYou are going for good?â she asked.

âI fear for anything but that! For good or bad, however, I must ride my thirty miles to-night.â

âThirty miles!â cried Janice, with a shiver. âAnd your hands are dreadfully cold, and your teeth chatter.â

ââT is only the chill of inaction after hard and hungry riding. Ten minutes of cantering will set the blood
jumping again.â

âCanât you wait a moment while I get something for you to eat?â besought the girl.

âBless you for the thought,â replied the aide, with a little husk in his voice. âBut my mission is too important
to risk delay, much more the nearness of yon dragoons.â

XXVIII THE EBB-TIDE 130

âFor what are you going?â questioned Janice.

âTo orderâto get the dice for a last desperate main.â

âGeneral Washington is going to tryâ?â

âAy. Ah, Miss Janice, they have beaten our troops, but theyâve still to beat our general, and if I can but make
Leeâ I must not linger. Wilt give me a good-by and God-speed to warm me on the ride?â

âBoth,â answered Janice, holding out her hand, which the officer once again stooped and kissed. âAnd
to-night Iâll pray for his Excellency.â

Brereton shoved open the door wide enough for the horse to pass through. âAnd not for his Excellencyâs
aide?â he asked.

Janice laughed a little shyly as she replied: âDoes not the greater always include the lesser?â

Barely were the words spoken, when a sound from the outside reached them, making both start and listen
intently. It needed but an instantâs attention to resolve the approaching noise into the jingle of bits and sabres.

âHist!â whispered the officer, warningly. âCavalry.â He threw back the holster-flap of the saddle to free a
pistol, and, grasping his scabbard to prevent it from clanking, he stepped through the doorway, leading
Joggles by the bridle.

âHo, there!â came a voice out of the driving snow. âWeâve lost sight and road. Which way is ât to
Greenwood?â

Brereton put foot in the stirrup and swung into the saddle. âAway to the right,â he responded, as he softly
drew his sabre, and slipped the empty scabbard between his thigh and the saddle. Gathering up the reins, he
wheeled Joggles to the left.

âCanât ye give us some guidance, whoever ye be?â asked the voice, now much nearer, while the sound of
horsesâ breathing and the murmur of menâs voices proved that a considerable party were struggling through
the deepening snow. âWhere are you, anyway?â

Brereton touched Joggles with the spur gently, and the steed moved forward. Not five steps had been taken
before the horse shied slightly to avoid collision with another, and, in doing so, he gave a neigh.

âHere âs the fellow, Hennion,â spoke up a rider. âNow weâll be stabled quick enough.â He reached out and
caught at the bridle.

There was a swishing sound, as Brereton swung his sword aloft and brought it down on the extended arm.
Using what remained of the momentum of the stroke, the aide let the flat of the weapon fall sharply on
Jogglesâ flank; the horse bounded forward, and, in a dozen strides, had passed through the disordered troop.

A shrill cry of pain came from the officer, followed by a dozen exclamations and oaths from the troopers, and
then a sharp order, âCatch or kill him!â

âHa, Joggles, old boy,â chuckled his rider, âthere âs not much chance of our being cold yet a while. But we
know the roads, and weâll show them a trick or two if theyâll but stick to us long enough.â

XXVIII THE EBB-TIDE 131

Bang! bang! bang! went some horse-pistols.

âShoot away!â jeered the aide, softly, though he leaned low in the saddle as he wheeled through the small
opening in the hedge and galloped over the garden beds. ââT is only British dragoons whoâd blindly waste
lead on a northeaster. âT is lucky the snow took no offence at my curses of it an hour ago.â

XXIX
ON CONTINENTAL SERVICE
Once across the garden, the aide rode boldly, trusting to the snow overhead to hide his doings and the snow
underfoot to keep them silent. Turning northward, he kept Joggles galloping for five minutes, then confident
that his pursuers had been distanced, or misled, he varied the pace, letting the horse walk where the snow was
drifted, but forcing him to his best speed where the road was blown clear.

âWe know the route up to Middlebrook, Joggles; but after that we get into the hills, and blindmanâs work ât
will be for the two of us. So ât is now we must make our time, if we are to be in Morristown by morning.â

The rider spoke truly, for it was already six oâclock when he reached the cross-roads at Baskinridge. Halting
his horse at the guide-post, he drew his sword and struck the crosspiece a blow, to clear it of its burden of
snow.

âMorristown, eight miles,â he read in the dark grayness of approaching day. âHast go enough in thee left to do
it, old fellow? Damn Lee for his tardiness and folly, which forces man and beast to journey in such cold.â
Pulling a flask from his pocket, he uncorked it. âThereâs scarce a drop left, but thou shouldst have half, if it
would serve thee,â he said, as he put it to his lips and drained it dry. ââT is the last I have, and eight miles of
Lee way still to do!â He laughed at his own pun, and pricked up the horse. Just as the weary animal broke into
a trot, the rider pulled rein once more and looked up at a signboard which had attracted his notice by giving a
discordant creak as the now dying storm swung it.

âA tavern! Here âs luck, for at least we can get some more rum.â Spurring the horse up to the door, he pulled
a pistol from its holster and pounded the panel noisily.

It required more than one repetition of the blows to rouse an indweller, but finally a window was enough
raised to permit the thrusting out of a becapped head.

âWhoâs below, and what do yez want?â it challenged gruffly.

âNever mind who I am. I want a pint of the best spirits you have, and a chance to warm myself for a ten
minutes, if youâve a spark of fire within.â

âOiâve nothinâ for anny wan who comes routinâ me out av bed at such an hour, anâ may the devil fly off wid
yez for that same,â growled the man. âGo away wid yez, anâ niver let me see yez more.â

The head was already drawn in, when Brereton, with quick readiness, called lustily: âDo as I order, or Iâll
have my troopers break in the door, and then look to yourself.â

âJust wan minute, colonel,â cried the man, in a very different tone; and in less than the time asked for the bolts
were slipped back and the door was opened by a figure wrapped in a quilt, which one hand drew about him,
while the other held a tallow dip aloft.

XXIX ON CONTINENTAL SERVICE 132

In the brief moment it took to do this, the officer not so much dismounted as tumbled from his horse, and he
now walked stiffly into the public room, stamping his feet to lessen their numbness.

âWhere âs thim troopers yez was talkinâ av?â questioned the landlord, peering out into the night.

âThrow some wood on those embers, and give me a drink of something, quickly,â ordered Brereton, paying
no heed to the inquiry.

âBad âcess to yea lies,â retorted the man, shutting the door. âItâs not wan bit av firing or drink yez get this
night fromâ Oh, mother in hivin, donât shoot, anâ yez honour shall have the best in the house, anâ a blessinâ
along wid it! Only just point it somewheer else, darlinâ, for thim horse-pistols is cruel fond av goinâ off
widout beinâ fired. Thank yez, sir, it âs my wife in bed will bless the day yez was born.â The man hastily
raked open the bed of ashes and threw chips and billets on the embers. Then he unlocked a corner cupboard.
âOiâve New England rum, corn whiskey, anâ home-made apple-jack, sir.â

âGive me the latter, and if youâve any food, let me have it. Brrrew! From nigh Brunswick Iâve rid since nine
last night and thought to perish a dozen times with the cold, dismount and run beside my horse as I would.â

âDrop that pistol, or I shoot!â came a sharp order, spoken from the gloom of a doorway across the room. âYou
are a prisoner.â

Brereton had been stooping over the fire, as it gained fresh life, but with one spring he was behind the
chimney breast.

ââT is idle to resist,â persisted the hidden speaker. âThe way is barred in both directions, and there are three of
us.â

Brereton laughed recklessly. âCome on, most courageous three. Iâve a bullet for one, and a sword for two.â

âHowly hivin! just let me out first off,â besought the publican.

âIf I had lead to spare, you should have the first of it for letting me into this trap,â Brereton told him viciously.
âWhy did you not warn me there were British hereabout?â

âHold!â came the distant voice. âIf you think us British, who are you?â

The officer hesitated, pondering on the possibility of being tricked, or of possibly tricking. âIf you were a
gentleman,â he said, after a pause, âyou âd give me a hint as to which side you belong.â

The unseen man laughed heartily at Jackâs reply. âSet me an example, then.â

âThat I will,â said Jack, âthough I donât guarantee the truth of it. I am an aide of General Washington, riding
on public service.

âTime enough it took you to know it. And if so, what were you doing near Brunswick?â

âI took the route I knew best.â

âThy name is?â

âJack Brereton.â

XXIX ON CONTINENTAL SERVICE 133

âArt thou a green-eyed, carrot-faced put, who frights all the women with his ill looks?â cried the man,
entering.

Brereton laughed as he stepped out from the sheltering projection. âSwitch you, whoever you are, for keeping
me from the fire when I am chilled to the marrow. Why, Eustace, this is luck beyond belief! But hast
swallowed a frog? You croak so that I knew you not.â

âNot I,â responded the new-comer, shaking his fellow-officerâs hand, âbut I swallowed enough of yesterdayâs
storm to spoil my voice, let alone this creeping out of bed in shirt only, to catch some malignant Tory or spy
of King George.â

âWhere art thy comrades?â inquired Brereton, peering past the major.

Eustace laughed. âThey âre making acquaintance with thy troop of horse.â

âBut what art thou doing here in this lonely hostel, with a British force no further away than Springfield? Dost
court capture?â

âJust what I told the general when he said heâd bide here tillââ

âThe general!â interrupted Brereton. âIs Lee hereâin this tavern?â

âAy. And sleeping through all the rout you made as soundââ

ââT is madness! However, Iâll not throw blame, for it has saved me eight miles of weary riding. Wake him at
once, as I must have word with him. And you, landlord, stable my horse, and see to it that he has both hay and
oats in plenty.â

There was some delay before Eustace returned with the word that the major-general would see the aide, and
with what ill grace the interview was granted was shown by the reception, for on Brereton being ushered into
the room, it was to find Lee still in bed, and so far under the counterpane that only the end of a high-coloured
but very much soiled nightcap was in view, while on the top of the covering lay two dogs, who rose with the
entrance of the interloper.

âWho the devil are ye; why the devil did ye have me waked; and what the devil do ye want?â was the
greeting, grumbled from the bedclothes.

Brereton flushed as he answered sharply: âEustace has no doubt told you who I am, and letters from his
Excellency must have already broke the purport of my mission. Finding you paid no heed to his written
orders, he has sent me with verbal ones, trusting your hearing may not be as seriously defective as your
eyesight.â

The head of the general appeared, as he sat up in bed. âIs this a message from General Washington?â he
vociferated.

âNo. âT is my own soft speaking, in recognition of your complaisant welcome. But I bear a message of his
Excellency. He directs that you march the entire force under you, without delay, by way of Bethlehem and
Easton, and effect a junction with him.â

âTo what end?â

XXIX ON CONTINENTAL SERVICE 134

âThe British think us so bad beat, and are so desirous to hold a big territory, for purposes of forage and
plunder, that they have scattered their troops beyond supporting distance. Can we but get a force together
sufficient to attack Burlington, Trenton, or Princeton, ât will be possible to beat them in detail.â

âI have a better project than that,â asserted Lee. âLet Washington but make a show of activity on the
Delaware, and he shall hear of my doings shortly.â

âBut what better can be done than to drive them back from a country rich with food supplies, relieve the dread
of their advancing upon Philadelphia, and give the people a chance to rally to us?â protested the aide.

âPooh!â scoffed Lee. ââT is pretty to talk of, but ât is another thing to bring it off, and I make small doubt that
ât will be no more successful than the damned ingenious manoeuvres of Brooklyn and Fort Washington,
which have unhinged the goodly fabric we had been building. I tell you we shall be in a declension till a
tobacco-hoeing Virginian, who was put into power by a trick, and who has been puffed up to the people as a
great man ever since, is shown to be most damnably weak and deficient. He âs had his chance and failed; now
ât is for me to repair the damage heâs done.â

Brereton clinched his fist and scowled. âDo I understand that you refuse to obey the positive orders of his
Excellency?â

ââT is necessary in detachment to allow some discretion to the commanding officer. However, Iâll think on it
after Iâve finished the sleep youâve tried to steal.â The general dropped back on the pillows, and drew up the
bedclothes so as to cover his nose.

The aide, muttering an oath, stamped noisily out of the room, slamming the door with a bang that rattled every
window in the house.

âI read failure in your face,â remarked Eustace, still crouched before the fire.

âFailure!â snapped the scowling man, as he, too, stooped over the blaze. âNothing but failure. Here, when the
people have been driven frantic by the outraging of their women and the plundering of their property, and
want but the smallest encouragement to rise, one man dishes all our hopes by his cursed ambition and
disobedience.â

âHow so?â

Too angry to control himself, even to Leeâs aide, Jack continued his tirade. âEver since the general was put
into office his subordinates have been scheming to break him down, and in Congress there has always been a
party against him, who, through dislike or incapacity, clog all he advises or asks. With the recent defeats, the
plotters have gained courage to speak out their thoughts, and your general goes so far as to refuse to obey
orders that would make possible a brilliant stroke, because he knows that ât would stop this clack against his
Excellency. Instead, he would have Washington sit passive and freezing on the Delaware while he steals the
honours by some attempted action. And all the while he is writing to his Excellency letters signed, âYours
most affectionately,â or âGod bless you,ââcheap substitutes for the three thousand troops he owes us.â The
aide went to the cupboard and helped himself to the apple-jack. âCanst get me a place to sleep, for God knows
Iâm tired?â

âThou shalt have my bed, and welcome to thee,â offered Eustace, leading the way upstairs. âThouâlt not mind
my getting into my clothes, for ât is not shirt-tail weather.â

XXIX ON CONTINENTAL SERVICE 135

âSixty miles and upward Iâve come since five oâclock yesterday morning, and Iâd agree to sleep under a
field-piece in full action.â Brereton took off his cap and wig to toss both on the floor, unbuckled his belt, and
let his sabre fall noisily; then sitting on the bed, he begged, âGive me a hand with my boots, will you?â Those
pulled off without rising he rolled over, and, bundling the disarranged bedclothes about him, he was instantly
asleep.

It was noon before consciousness returned to the tired body, and only then because the clatter of horsesâ feet
outside waked the sleeper and startled him so that he sprang from the bed to the window. Relieved by the
sight of Continental uniforms, Brereton stretched himself as if still weary, and felt certain muscles, to test
their various degrees of soreness, muttering complaints as he did so. Throwing aside his jacket, waistcoat, and
shirt, he took his sword and pried out the crust of ice on the water in the tin milk-pail which stood on the
wash-stand. Swashing the ice-cold water over his face and shoulders, he groaned a curse or two as the chill
sent a shiver through him. But as he rubbed himself into a glow, he became less discontented, and when
resuming the flannel shirt, he laughed. âThank a kind God that it âs as cold to the British as ât is to us, and
there are more of them to suffer.â Another moment served to don his outer clothing and boots, and to fit on his
wig and sword. His toilet made, he went downstairs, humming cheerily. He turned first to the kitchen door,
drawn thither by the smell that greeted his nostrils.

âCanst give a bestarved man a big breakfast and quickly?â he asked the woman.

âShure, Oiâve all Oi can do now,â was the surly response, âwid the general anâ his staff; anâ his escort, anâ
thim as is cominâ anâ goinâ, anâââ

Brereton came forward. âYe âd niver let an Oirishman go hungry,â he appealed, putting a brogue on his
tongue. âArrah, me darlinâ, no maid wid such lips but has a kind heart.â The officer boldly put his hand under
the womanâs chin and made as if he would kiss her. Then, as she eluded the threatened blandishment, he
continued, âSure, and do ye call yeself a woman, that ye starve a man all ways to wanst?â

âAh, go long wid yez freeness and yez blarney,â retorted the woman, giving him a shove, though smiling.

âAnâ, darlinâ,â persisted the unabashed officer, âitâs owinâ me somethinâ ye do, for it was meself saved yez
fatherâs life this very morning.â

âMy fatherâshure, it âs dead heâs been thisâIt âs my husband yez must be afther spakinâ av.â

"He âs too old to be that same,â flattered Brereton.

ââT is he, Oi make shure,â acknowledged the woman, as she nevertheless set her apron straight and smoothed
her hair. âAnâ how did yez save his loife?â

âArrah, by not shooting him, as I was sore tempted to do.â

The landlady melted completely and laughed. âAnâ what would yez loike for breakfast?â she asked.

Brereton looked at the provisions spread about. âJust give me four fried eggs wid bacon, anâ two av thim
sausages, an corn bread, wid something hot to drink, anâ if that âs buckwheat batter in the pan beyant, just
cook a dozen cakes or so, for Iâve a long ride to take anâ they do be so staying. Also, if ye can make me up
somethingâay, cold sausages anâ hard-boiled eggs, if yeâve nothing else, to take wid me; anâ then a kiss, to
keep the heart warm inside av me, ât is wan man yeâll have given a glimpse av hivin.â

XXIX ON CONTINENTAL SERVICE 136

âBless us all!â marvelled Eustace, when twenty minutes later he entered the kitchen, to learn what delayed the
generalâs lunch. âHow came you by such a spread, when it âs all any of us can do to get enough to keep life in
us? Is ât sorcery, man?â

âNo, witchery,â laughed the aide. âIf thy chief were but a woman, Eustace, Iâd have Washington reinforced
within a two days."

His breakfast finished, the aide secured pen and paper, and wrote a formal order for Lee to march. This done,
he sought the general, and, interrupting a consultation he was holding with General Sullivan, he delivered the
paper into his hands.

âI ask General Sullivan to witness that I deliver you positive instructions to march your force, to effect a
junction with General Washington.â

âIâve already writ him a letter that will convince him I act for the best,â answered Lee, holding out the
missive.

The aide took it without a word, saluted, and left the room. Going to the front door, where Joggles already
awaited him, he put a Continental bill into the hands of the publican, bade adieu to Eustace, and rode away.

ââT is as bright a day as ât was dark a night, old man,â he said to the horse, âbut it never looked blacker for
the cause, and Iâve had my long ride for nothing. Perhaps, though, there may be pay day coming. She knows
that Iâm to be at Van Meterâs barn to-night. What say you, Joggles? Think you will she be there?â

XXX
SOME DOINGS BY STEALTH
The sound of shots outside put a sudden termination to the supper in both the dining-room and kitchen of
Greenwood, and served to bring inmates and candles to the front and back doors. Beyond the momentâs rush
of a body of horsemen past the house, no light on the interruption was obtained, until some of the escort of
Clowes were despatched to the stable to learn if all was well with their horses. There they found the wounded
man stretched on the snow, and just within the doorway lay Janice in a swoon, with Clarion licking her face.
Both were carried to the house, and while Mrs. Meredith and the sergeant endeavoured to save the officer by a
rude tourniquet, the squire held Janiceâs head over some feathers which Peg burned in a bed-warmer.

âDid they kill him?â was the first question the girl asked, when the combined stench and suffocation had
revived consciousness.

âHe âs just expiring,â her father replied. âHis arm was struck off above the elbow, and he bleeds like a stuck
pig.â

Janice staggered up, though somewhat languidly. âMayâ âDid he ask to see me?â

âNot he,â she was told. âCome, lass, sit quiet for a bit till thy head is steady, and tell us what ât was all about.â

Janice sank into the chair her father set beside the fire. âHe was on some mission for his Excellency,â she
gasped, âand stopped here to get a fresh horseâthat was how I came to know itâand while we were talking we
heard the dragoons coming, so he mounted, to escape. Then I heard a cryâoh! such a cryâand the
pistolsâandâandâthat âs all I remember.â

XXX SOME DOINGS BY STEALTH 137

âWhy went he to the stable rather than to the house in the first case?â demanded her father.

Janice looked surprised. âHe knew the troopers were here,â she explained.

The squire was about to speak, when Clowesâ hand on his shoulder checked him. âThereâs more here than we
understand,â the latter whispered. âLet me ask the questions.â He came to the fire and said:â

âWhy did he take this route, if he was bearing despatches?â

The first sign of colour came creeping back into the pale cheeks of the girl, as she recalled the double motive
the aide had given. âColonel Brereton said he did not know the westerly roads, and soââ

âColonel Brereton!â rapped out her father. âAnd what was he doing hereabout? Plague take the scamp that he
must be forever returning to worry us!â

âHow much of a force had he with him?â asked the commissary.

âHe was alone,â replied Janice.

âAlone!â exclaimed the baron, incredulously; then his face lost its look of surprise. âHe came by stealth to see
you,

There was enough truth in the supposition to destroy the last visible signs of the girlâs swoon, and she
responded over-eagerly: âI told you he was on a mission for his Excellency, and but stopped here to get a
fresh horse.â

âAy,â growled the squire, âhe steals himself, then steals my crop, and now turns horse thief.â

âHe was not stealing, dadda,â denied Janice. âHis own horse was tired, so he left her and said heâd return
Joggles some time to-morrow evening.â

Clowes whistled softly, as he and the squire exchanged glances. Just as the former was about to resume his
questioning, the sound of the front door being violently thrown open gave him pause, and the next instant Phil
hurriedly entered the room.

âThe troopers at the stable say ye found Captain Boyde. Is he bad hurt?â he demanded.

âTo the death,â spoke up the squire, for once missing the commissaryâs attempt to keep him silent. âHast
caught Brereton?â

[Illustration: âStay and take his place, Colonel!â]

Janice had sprung to her feet and now stood listening, with a half-eager, half-frightened look.

âBrereton!â cried Philemon. âDid he head the party?â

The growing complexity was too much for the patience of the simple-minded owner of Greenwood. âMay
Belza have us all,â he fumed, âif I can see the bottom or even the sides of this criss-cross business. Just tell us
a straight tale, lad, if we are not to have the jingle brains.â

XXX SOME DOINGS BY STEALTH 138

ââT is a swingeing bad business,â groaned Phil. âOur troop rode over from Princeton ter-day, anâ the houses
at Brunswick beinâ full of soldiers, I tells âem that we could find quarters here. We was gropinâ our way
when the enemy set upon us, anâ in the surprise cuts down the captain, anâ captures three of our men.â

âDost mean to say ye let one man kill your captain and take three of ye prisoners?â scoffed the squire.

âOne man!â protested the dragoon. âThink you one man could do that?â

âJanice insists that there was but Breretonâbut Charles Fownes, now a rebel colonel.â

âYou may lay ter it there was morânââ Then Philemon wavered, for the sight of the flushed, guilty look on the
girlâs face gave a new bent to his thoughts. âWhat was he here for?â he vociferated, growing angrily red as he
spoke and striding to the fire. âSo heâs doinâ the Jerry Sneak about you yet, is he? I tell you, squire, I wonât
have it.â

âKeep thy blustering and bullying for the mess-room and the tavern, sir,â rebuked Clowes, sharply, also
showing temper. âWhat camp manners are these to bring into gentlemenâs houses and exhibit in the presence
of ladies?â

ââS death, sir,â retorted Phil, hotly, âI take my manners from no man, norââ

âHoighty, toighty!â chided Mrs. Meredith, entering. âIs there not wind enough outside but ye must bellow like
mad bulls within?â

âAy,â assented the squire, âno quarrelling, gentlemen, for weâve other things to set to. Phil, there is no
occasion to go off like touchwood; ât is not as thee thinks. What is true, however, is that weâve a chance to
catch this same rogue of a Brereton, if we but lay heads together.â

âOh, dadda!â expostulated Janice. âYouâll notâfor I promised him to tell nothingâand never would have
spoken had I not been dazedâand thinking him dead. I should die ofââ

âFudge, child!â retorted Mr. Meredith. âWeâll have no heroics over a runaway redemptioner who is fighting
against our good king. Furthermore, we must know all else he told ye.â

âI passed him my promise to keep secretââ

âAnd of that I am to be judge,â admonished the parent. âDost think thyself of an age to act for thyself? Come:
out with it; every word he spake.â

âIâll not break my faith,â rejoined Janice, proudly, her eyes meeting her fatherâs bravely, though the little
hands trembled as she spoke, half in fright and half in excitement.

âNay, Miss Janice, ye scruple foolishly,â advised Lord Clowes. âRemember the old adage, that âA bad
promise, like a good cake, is better broken than kept.ââ

ââChildren, obey thy parents in the Lord, for this is right,ââ quoted Mrs. Meredith, sternly.

âGod never meant for me to lieâand that âs what you would have me do.â

The squire stepped into the hail, and returned with his riding-whip. âThou ârt a great girl to be whipped,
Janice,â he announced; âbut if thou ârt not old enough to obey, thou ârt not too old for a trouncing. Quickly,

XXX SOME DOINGS BY STEALTH 139

now, which wilt thou have?â

âYou can kill me, but Iâll keep my word,â panted the maiden, while shaking with fear at her resistance, at the
threatened punishment, and still more at the shame of its publicity.

Forgetful of everything in his anger, the squire strode toward his daughter to carry out his threat. Ere he had
crossed the room, however, to where she stood, his way was barred by Philemon.

âLook a-here, squire,â the officer remonstrated, âI ainât a-goinâ ter stand by and see Janice hit, no ways, so if
there âs any thrashinâ ter be done, youâve got ter begin on me.â

âOut of my way!â roared Mr. Meredith.

Phil folded his arms. âIâve said my say,â he affirmed, shaking his head obstinately; âand if that ainât enough,
Iâll quit talkinâ and do something.â

âThe boy âs right, Meredith,â assented Clowes. âNor do we need more of her. Send the girl to bed, and then
Iâll have something to say.â

Reluctantly the squire yielded; and Janice, with glad tears in her eyes, turned and thanked Philemon by a
glance that meant far more than any words. Then she went to her room, only to lie for hours staringly awake,
listening to the wild whirring and whistling of the wind as she bemoaned her unintentional treachery to the
aide, and sought for some method of warning him.

âI must steal away to-morrow to the Van Metersâ barn at nightfall,â was her conclusion, âand wait his
coming, to tell him of myâof my mistake, for otherwise he may bring Joggles back and be captured. If I can
only do it without being discovered, for daddaââ and the anxious, overwrought, tired girl wept the rest of the
sentence into her pillow.

Meantime, in the room below, Lord Clowes unfolded his plan and explained why he had wished the maiden
away.

ââT is obvious thy girl has an interest in this fellow,â he surmised, âand so ât is likely she will try to-morrow
evening to see him, or get word to him. Our scheme must therefore be to let her go free, but to see to ât that
we know what sheâs about, and be prepared to advantage ourselves by whatever comes to pass.â

The storm ceased before the winter daylight, and with the stir of morning came information concerning the
missing dragoons: the body of one was found close to the stable, with a bullet in his back, presumably a
chance shot from one of his comrades; a second rode up and reported himself, having in the storm lost his
way, and wellnigh his life, which he owed only to the lucky stumbling upon the house of one of the tenants;
and Clarion discovered the third, less fortunate than his fellow, frozen stiff within a quarter of a mile of
Greenwood.

ââT is most like that rebel colonel and horse-thief shared the same fate, for ât was a wild night,â remarked
Clowes at the breakfast table. âHowbeit, ât will be best to have some troops hid in your stable against this
evening, for he may have weathered the storm.â

The morning meal despatched, Philemon rode over to Brunswick to report the death of his superior to the
colonel, as well as to unfold the trap they hoped to spring, and Harcourt considered the news so material that
he and Major Tarleton accompanied Philemon on his return. After a plentiful justice to the dinner and to the
decanters, the men, as the early winter darkness came on, settled down to cards, while Mrs. Meredith, in mute

XXX SOME DOINGS BY STEALTH 140

protest against the use of the devilâs pictures, left the room, summoned Peg, and in the garret devoted herself
to the mysteries of setting up a quilting-frame. As for the dragoons, they sprawled and lounged about the
kitchen, playing cards or toss, and grumbling at the quantity and quality of the Greenwood brew of small beer,
till Sukey was wellnigh desperate.

Had Janice been older and more experienced, the very unguardedness would have aroused her suspicions. To
her it seemed, however, but the arrangement of a kind destiny, and not daring to risk a delay till after tea,
when conditions might not again so favour her, she left the work she had sat down to in the parlour after
dinner, and tiptoeing through the hall, lest she should disturb the card-players in the squireâs office, she
secured her warmest wrap. Returning to the parlour, she softly raised a window, and, slipping out, in another
moment was within the concealing hedge-row of box.

Speeding across the garden, the girl crept through a break in the hedge, then, stooping low, she followed a
stone wall till the road was reached. No longer in sight of the house, she hurried on boldly, till within sight of
the Van Meter farm. She skirted the house at a discreet distance and stole into the barn. With a glance to
assure herself that the mare was still there, and a kindly pat as she passed, she mounted into the mow, where
for both prudence and warmth she buried herself deep in the hay. Then it seemed to Janice that hours elapsed,
the sole sounds being the contented munching of horses and cattle, varied by the occasional stamp of a hoof.

Suddenly the girl sat up, with a realising sense that she had been asleep, and with no idea for how long. A
sound below explained her waking, and as she listened, she made out the noise to be that of harnessing or
unharnessing. Creeping as near the edge of the mow as she dared, she peered over, but all was blackness.

âColonel Brereton?â she finally said.

A momentâs silence ensued before she had an answer, though it was eager enough when it came. âIs ât you,
Miss Janice, and where are you?â

The girl came down the ladder and moved blindly toward the stalls. As she did so, somebody came in contact
with her; instantly she was enfolded by a pair of arms, and before she could speak she felt a manâs eager lips
first on her cheek, and next on her chin.

âHeaven bless you for coming, my darling,â whispered Brereton.

Janice struggled to free herself as Brereton tried to caress her the third time. âDonât,â she protested. âYouâIâ
How dare you?â

âA pretty question to ask an ardent lover and a desperate man, whose beloved confesses her passion by
coming to him!â

âI did nât!â expostulated the girl, as, desperate with mortification, she broke away from the embrace by sheer
strength and fled to the other side of the barn. âHow dare you think such things of me?â

âThen for what came you?â inquired Jack.

âTo warn you.â

âOf what?â

âThat you must not bring Joggles back, for theyâthe soldiersâare watching the stable.â

XXX SOME DOINGS BY STEALTH 141

âYou told them?â

The girl faltered, hating to acknowledge her mistake, now that it was remedied. âIf I had, why should I take
the risk and the shame of coming here?â she replied.

âForgive me, Miss Janice, for doubting you, and for my freedom just now. I didâfor the moment I thought you
like other women. I wanted to think you came to me, even though it cheapened you. And being desperate, Iââ

âWhy?â questioned the girl.

âI have failed in my mission, thanks to Leeâs folly and selfishness. Would to God the troopers who lie in wait
for me would go after him! A quick raid would do it, for he lies eight miles from his army, and with no guard
worth a thought. There âd be a fine prize, if the British did but know it.â

âThanks for the suggestion,â spoke up a deep voice, and at the first word blankets were tossed off two
lanterns, followed by a rush of men. For a moment there was a wild hurly-burly, and then Breretonâs voice
cried, âI yield!â

As the confusion ended as suddenly as it had begun, he added scornfully:â

âTo treachery!â

XXXI
AN EXCHANGE OF PRISONERS
The prisonerâs arms were hurriedly tied and he was mounted behind one of the troopers. Janice, meanwhile,
who had been seized by Philemon and drawn to one side out of the struggle, besought permission of her
special captor to speak to Brereton, her fright over the surprise and her dread of what was to come both
forgotten in the horror and misery the last words of the aide caused her. The jealousy of the lover, united to
the strictness of the soldier, made Philemon heedless of her prayers and tears, and finally, when the cavalcade
was ready to start, she was forced to mount her namesake, and, with such seat as she could keep in the manâs
saddle, ride between Colonel Harcourt and Hennion.

No better fortune awaited her at Greenwood, the captive being taken to the kitchen, while the culprit was
escorted to the parlour, to stand, shivering, frightened, and tearful, as her father and mother berated her for
most of the sins of the Decalogue.

Fortunately for the maid, other hearts were not so sternly disapproving; and Lord Clowes, after waiting till the
girlâs distress was finding expression in breathless sobs, in order that she might be the more properly grateful,
at last interfered.

âCome, come, squire,â he interjected, crossing to the bowed form, and taking one of Janiceâs hands
consolingly, âthe lass has been giddy, but ât is an ill wind, truly, for through it we have one fine bird secured
yonder, to say nothing of an even bigger prize in prospect. Cry a truce, therefore, and let the child go to bed.â

âAy, go to thy room, miss,â commanded Mrs. Meredith, who had in truth exhausted her vocabulary, if not her
wrath. âA pretty hour ât is for thee to be out of bed, indeed!â

Janice, conscious at the moment of but one partisan, turned to the baron. âOh, please,â she besought, âmay nât
I say just one word to Colonel Breretonâjust to tell him that I didnâtââ

XXXI AN EXCHANGE OF PRISONERS 142

âHast not shamed us enough for one night with thy stolen interviews?â ejaculated her mother. âTo thy room
this instant

Made fairly desperate, Janice was actually raising her head to protest, when Harcourt and Philemon entered.

âOne moment, madam,â intervened the colonel. âI have been plying our prisoner with questions, and have
some to ask of your daughter. Now, Miss Meredith, Lee's letter, that we found on the prisoner, has told us all
we need, but we want to test the prisonerâs statements by yours. Look to it that you speak us truly, for if we
find any false swearing or quibbling, ât will fare ill with you.â Then for three or four minutes the officer
examined the girl concerning her first interview with the rebel officer, seeking to gain additional information
as to Leeâs whereabout. Finding that Janice really knew nothing more than had been overheard in the Van
Meter barn, he ended the examination by turning to Philemon and saying:â

âSound boots and saddles, Lieutenant Hennion. You can guide us, I take it, to this tavern from which General
Lee writes?â

âThat I kin,â asserted Phil, âthough ât will be a stiff ride ter git there afore morning.â

As the two officers went toward the door Janice made her petition anew. âColonel Harcourt, may I have word
with Colonelâwith the prisoner, that he shall not think ât was my treachery?â she pleaded.

âI advise agin it, Colonel Harcourt,â interjected Philemon, his face red with some emotion. âThat prisonerâs a
sly, sneaky tyke, andââ

âGet the troop mounted, Mr. Hennion,â commanded his superior. âMr. Meredith, I leave our captive in charge
of a sergeant and two troopers, with orders that if I am not back within twenty-four hours he be taken to
Brunswick. Whether we succeed or fail in our foray, Sir William shall hear of the service you have been to
us.â Unheeding Janiceâs plea, the colonel left the room, and a moment later the bugle sounded in quick
succession, âTo horse,â âThe march,â and âBy fours, forward.â

Interest in the departing cavalry drew the elders to the windows, and in this preoccupation Janice saw her
opportunity to gain by stealth what had been denied her. Slipping silently from the parlour, she sped through
hall and dining-room, pausing only when the kitchen doorway was attained, her courage wellnigh gone at the
thought that the aide might refuse to believe her protestations of innocence. Certainty that she had but a
moment in which to explain prevented hesitancy, and she entered the kitchen.

The two troopers were already stretched at full length on the floor, their feet to the fire, while the sergeant sat
by the table, with a pitcher of small beer and a pipe to solace his particular hours of guard mount over the
prisoner. The latter was seated near the fire, his arms drawn behind him by a rope which passed through the
slats of the chair back. So far as these fetters would permit, Brereton was slouched forward, with his chin
resting on his chest in a most break-neck attitude, sound asleep. There could be no doubt about it, beyond
credence though it was to the girl! While she had been miserably conceiving the officer as ablaze with wrath
at her, he, with the philosophy of the experienced soldier, had lost not a moment in getting what rest he could
after his forty-eight hours of hard riding.

Such callousness was to Janice a source of indignation, and as she debated whether she should wake the
slumberer and make her explanation, or punish his apathy by letting him sleep, Mrs. Meredithâs voice calling
her name in a not-to-be-misunderstood tone turned the balance, and, flying up the servantsâ stairway, Janice
was able to answer her motherâs third call from her own room. Worn out by excitement, worry, and physical
fatigue, the girl, like the soldier, soon found oblivion from both past and future.

XXXI AN EXCHANGE OF PRISONERS 143

It was well toward morning when a finish was made to the nightâs doings, and the early habits of the
household were for once neglected to such an extent that the dragoons at last lost patience and roused Peg and
Sukey with loudly shouted demands for breakfast,âa racket which served to set all astir once more.

With the conclusion of the morning meal, Janice rose from the table and went toward the kitchen,âan action
which at once caused Mrs. Meredith to demand: âWhither art thou going, child?â

Facing about, the girl replied with some show of firmness: ââT is but fair that Colonel Brereton should know I
had no hand in his captivation; and I have a right to tell him so.â

âThou shalt do nothing of the sort,â denied Mrs. Meredith. âWas not thy conduct last evening indelicate
enough, but thou must seek to repeat it?â

Janice, with her hand on the knob, began to sob. ââT is dreadful,â she moaned, âafter his doing what he did for
us at York, and later, that he should think I had a hand in his capture.â

âTush, Jan!â ejaculated the squire, fretfully, the more that his conscience had already secretly blamed him.
âNo gratitude I owe the rogue, if both sides of the ledger be balanced. âT is he brought about the scrape that
led to my arrest.â

âAy,â went on Mrs. Meredith, delighted to be thus supported, âI have small doubt thy indelicacy with him
will land us all in prison. Such folly is beyond belief, and came not from my family, Mr. Meredith,â she
added, turning on her husband.

âWell, well, wife; all the folly in the lass scarce comes from my side, for ât is to be remembered that ye were
foolish enough to marry me,â suggested the squire, placably, his anger at his daughter already melted by the
sight of her distress. âDonât be too stern with the child; she is yet but a filly.â

âThee means but a silly,â snapped Mrs. Meredith, made the more angry by his defence of the girl. âMen are
all of a piece, and cannot hold anger if the eyes be bright, or the waist be slim,â she thought to herself
wrathfully, quite forgetful of the time when that very tendency in masculine kind had been to her one of its
merits. âSet to on the quilt, girl, and see to it that thereâs no sneaking to the kitchen.â

Scarcely had Janice, obedient to her motherâs behest, seated herself at the big quilting-frame, when Lord
Clowes joined her.

âThey treat ye harsh, Miss Janice,â he remarked sympathetically; âbut ât is an unforgiving world, as I have
good cause to wot.â

Janice, who had stooped lower over the patches when first he spoke, flashed her eyes up for an instant, and
then dropped them again.

âAnd one is blamed and punished for much that deserves it not. Iâ faith, I know one man who stands
disgraced to the woman he loves best, for no better cause than that the depth of his passion was so boundless
that he went to every length to gain her.â

The quilter fitted a red calimanco patch in place, and studied the effect with intense interest.

âWouldst like me to carry a message to the prisoner, Miss Janice?â

XXXI AN EXCHANGE OF PRISONERS 144

âOh, will you?â murmured the girl, gratefully and eagerly. âWilt tell him that I knew nothing of the plan to
capture him, and was only trying to aid his escape? That, after all his kindness, I would neverââ

Here the eager flow of words received a check by the re-entrance of Mrs. Meredith. Dropping his hand upon
the quilting-frame so that it covered one of the girlâs, the commissary conveyed by a slight pressure a pledge
of fulfilment of her wish, and, after a few momentsâ passing chat, left the room. Before a lapse of ten minutes
he returned, and took a chair near the girl.

Glancing at her mother, to see if her eyes wandered from the sock she was resoling, Janice raised her
eyebrows with furtive inquiry. In answer the baron shook his head.

ââT is a curious commentary on man, âhe observed thoughtfully, âthat he always looks on the black side of
his fellow-creatures, and will not believe that they can be honest and truthful.â

âMan is born in sin,â responded Mrs. Meredith. âJanice, that last patch is misplaced; pay heed to thy work.â

âI lately had occasion to justify an action to a man,â went on Clowes, âbut, no, the scurvy fellow would put no
faith in my words, insisting that the person I sought to clear was covinous and tricky, and wholly unworthy of
trust.â

âThe thoughts of a man who prefers to think such things,â broke in Janice, hotly, âare of no moment.â

âYe are quite right, Miss Janice,â assented the emissary, âand I would Iâd had the wit to tell him so. âT is my
intention some day to call him to account for his words.â

Further communion on this topic was interrupted by the incoming of Mr. Meredith, and during the whole day
the two were never alone. His forgiveness partly won by his service, the commissary ventured to take a seat
beside the quilter, and sought to increase his favour with her by all the arts of tongue and manner he had at
command. As these were manifold, he saw no reason, as dusk set in, to be dissatisfied with the dayâs results.
Inexperienced as Janice was, she could not know that the cooler and less ardent the man, the better he plays
the loverâs part; and while she never quite forgot his previous deceit, nor the trouble into which he had
persuaded her, yet she was thoroughly entertained by what he had to tell her, the more that under all his words
he managed to convey an admiration and devotion which did not fail to flatter the girl, even though it stirred
in her no response. Entertained as she might be, her thoughts were not so occupied by the charm and honey of
Lord Clowesâs attentions as to pretermit all dwelling on the aideâs opinion of her, and this was shown when
finally an interruption set her free from observation.

It was after nightfall ere there was any variation of the monotonous quiet; and indeed the tall clock had just
announced the usual bedtime of the family when Clarionâs bark made the squire sit up from his drowse before
the fire, and set all listening. Presently came the now familiar sound of hoof-beat and sabre-clank; springing to
his feet and seizing a candle, Mr. Meredith was at the front door as a troop trotted in from the road.

âWhat cheer?â called the master of Greenwood.

ââT was played to a nicety,â answered the voice of Harcourt, as he threw himself from the saddle. âSound the
stable call, bugler. Dismount your prisoner, sergeant, and bring him in,â he ordered; and then continued to the
host: "We had the tavern surrounded, Mr. Meredith, ere they so much as knew, bagged our game, and here we
are.â

The words served to carry the two to the parlour, and closely following came a sergeant and trooper, while
between them, clothed in a very soiled dressing-gown and a still dirtier shirt, in slippers, his queue still

XXXI AN EXCHANGE OF PRISONERS 145

undressed, and with hands tied behind his back, walked the general who but a few hours before had been
boasting of how he was to save the Continental cause.

âIf you have pity in you,â besought the prisoner, âlet me warm myself. What method of waging war is it
which forces a man to ride thirty miles in such weather in such clothes? For the sake of former humanity, Mr.
Meredith, give me something hot to drink.â

In the excitement and confusion of the new arrivals, Janice had seen her chance, and, intent upon making her
own statement of justification, she once again stole from the parlour and into the kitchen, so softly that the
occupants of neither room were aware of escape or advent. She found the prisoner still tied to his chair, his
body and head hanging forward in an attitude denoting weariness, Sukey engaged in cutting slices of bacon in
probable expectation of demands from the new-comers, while the single trooper on guard had just opened the
entry door, and was shouting inquiries concerning the success of the raid to his fellow-dragoons as they
passed to the stable.

Acting on a sudden impulse which gave her no time for consideration, Janice caught the knife from the hand
of Sukey, and, with two hasty strokes, cut the cord where it was passed through the slats of the chair-back,
setting the prisoner free.

âFoâ de good Lord in hebinââ began the cook, in amazement; but, as the import of her young mistressâs act
dawned upon her, she ran to the fireplace and, catching up a log of wood, held it out to Brereton.

Owing to his stooping posture, the release of the cords had caused the aide to fall forward out of the chair; but
he instantly scrambled to his feet, and without so much as a glance behind him, seized the billet from the
hands of the cook and sprang toward the doorway, reaching it at the moment the dragoon turned about to learn
the cause of the sudden commotion. Bringing the log down with crushing force on the manâs head, Jack
stooped as the man plungedâ forward, possessed himself of his sabre, caught one of the long cavalry capotes
from its hook in the entry, and, banging to the door, vanished in the outer darkness. There he stood for a
moment, listening intently, apparently in doubt as to his next step; then electing the bolder course, he threw
the coat about his shoulders, fastened the sabre to his side, and ran to the stable, where the tired troopers, in
the dim light furnished by a solitary lantern, were now dismounting from their horses. Without hesitation the
aide walked among them, and in a disguised voice announced: âColonel Harcourt orders me to look to his
horse.â

âHere,â called a man, and the fugitive stepped forward and caught the bridle the trooper threw to him. He
stood quietly while the dragoons one by one led their horses into the stable, then pulling gently on the reins,
he slowly walked the colonelâs horse forward as if to follow their example, but, turning a little to the left, he
passed softly around the side of the building. Letting down the bars into the next field, he quickened his pace
until the road was reached; swinging himself into the saddle, he once more spurred northward.

âPoor brute,â he remarked, âspent as thou art, we must make a push for it until beyond Middle-Brook, if I am
to save my bacon. âT is a hard fate that makes thee serve both sides by turn, until there is no go left in thee.
Luckily, the other horses are as tired as thou, or my escape would be very questionable, even though I had wit
enough about me to see to it that I got the officerâs mount. Egad, a queer shift it is that ends with Lee in their
hands and me spurring northward to repeat the generalâs orders to Sullivan. Who knows but Mrs. Meredith
and the parson may be right in their holding to foreordination?â

XXXI AN EXCHANGE OF PRISONERS 146

XXXII
UNDER DURANCE
As Brereton slammed the kitchen door behind him, the girl ran to the assistance of the injured trooper, only to
recoil at sight of the blood flowing from his mouth and nose, and in uncontrollable horror and fright she fled
to her own room. Here, cowering and shivering, she crouched on the floor behind her bed, her breath coming
fast and short, as she waited for the sword of vengeance to fall. Ere many seconds the sounds below told her
that the escape had been discovered, bangings of doors, shouts, bugle calls, and the clatter of horsesâ feet each
in succession giving her fresh terror. Yet minute after minute passed without any one coming to find her, and
at last the suspense became so intolerable that the girl rose and went to the head of the stairs to listen. From
that point of vantage she could hear in the dining-room the voice of Harcourt sternly asking questions, the
replies to which were so inarticulate and so intermixed with sobs and wails that Janice could do no more than
realise that the cook was under examination. Harcourtâs inquiries, however, served to reveal that the faithful
Sukey was endeavouring to conceal her young mistressâs part in the prisonerâs escape; and as Janice gathered
this, the figure which but a moment before had expressed such fear suddenly straightened, and without
hesitation she ran down the stairs and entered the dining-room just in time to hear Sukey affirm:â

âI dun it, I tells youse, I dun it, and datâs all I will tells youse.â

âColonel Harcourt,â announced the girl, steadily, âSukey did nât do it. I took the knife from her and cut the
prisoner loose before she knew what I had in mind.â

âDoan youse believe one word dat chile says,â protested Sukey.

âIt is true,â urged Janice, as eager to assume the guilt as five minutes before she had been anxious to escape it;
âand if you want proof, you will find the knife on my bed upstairs.â

âOh, missy, missy!â cried Sukey, âwhaâ foâ youse tell dat? Now dey kill youse anâ not ole Sukey;â and the
sobs of the slave redoubled as she threw herself on the floor in the intensity of her grief.

It took but few interrogations on the part of Harcourt to wring all the truth from the culprit, and ordering her to
follow him to the parlour, he angrily denounced the girl to her parents. Much to her surprise, she found that
this latest enormity called forth less of an outburst than her previous misconduct, her father being quite
staggered by its daring and seriousness; while Mrs. Meredith, with a sudden display of maternal tenderness
that Janice had not seen for years, took the girl in her arms, and tried to soothe and comfort her.

One more friend in need proved to be Clowes, who, when Harcourt declared that the girl should be carried to
Princeton in the morning, along with Lee, that Lord Cornwallis might decide as to her punishment, sought to
make the officer take less summary measures, but vainly, except to win the concession that if Hennion
recaptured the prisoner he would take a less drastic course. The morrow brought a return of the pursuing
party, empty-handed, and in a hasty consultation it was agreed that the squire should accompany Janice,
leaving Mrs. Meredith under the protection of Philemon,âan arrangement by no means pleasing to the young
lieutenant, and made the less palatable by the commissaryâs announcement that he should retrace his own
steps to Princeton in the hope of being of service to his friends. Philemonâs protests were ineffectual,
however, to secure any amendment; and the sleigh, with Breretonâs mare and Joggles to pull it, received the
three, and, together with Lee and the escort, set out for headquarters about noon.

With the arrival at Nassau Hall, then serving as barracks for the force centred there, a fresh complication
arose, for Colonel Harcourt learned that Lord Cornwallis, having seen his force safely in winter quarters at
Princeton, Trenton, and Burlington, had departed the day previous for New York, while General Grant, who

XXXII UNDER DURANCE 147

succeeded him, was still at Trenton. Taking the night to consider what was best to be done, Harcourt made up
his mind to carry his prisoners to New York, a decision which called forth most energetic protests from the
squire, who had contrived in the doings of the last two days to take cold, and now asserted that an attack of the
gout was beginning. His pleadings were well seconded by the baron, and not to harass too much one known to
be friendly both to the cause and to the commander-in-chief, the colonel finally consented that the fate of
Janice should be left to the general in command. This decided, Lee was once more mounted, and captive and
captors set about retracing their steps, while the sleigh carried the squire and Janice, under guard, on to
Trenton, Mr. Meredith having elected to make the short trip to that town rather than await the indefinite return
of Grant.

It was dusk when they reached Trenton, and once more they were doomed to a disappointment, for the
major-general had departed to Mount Holly. Mr. Meredithâs condition, as well as nightfall, put further travel
out of the question, and an appeal was made to Rahl, the Hessian colonel commanding the brigade which held
the town, to permit them to remain, which, thanks to the influence of the commissary, was readily granted, on
condition that they could find quarters for themselves.

âNo fear,â averred the squire, cheerily. âIâll never want for sup or bed in Trenton while Thomas Drinker
lives.â

âAch!â exclaimed the colonel. âDod iss mein blace ver I sleeps und eats und drinks. Und all bessitzen you
will it find.â

Notwithstanding the warning, the sleigh was driven to the Drinkersâ door, now flanked by a battery of
field-pieces, and in front of which paced sentries, who refused to let them pass. Their protests served to attract
the attention of the inmates, and brought the trio of Drinkers running to the door; in another moment the two
girls were locked in each otherâs arms, while Mr. Meredith put his question concerning possible hospitality.

âAy, in with thee all, Friend Lambert,â cried Mr. Drinker, leading the way. âThouâlt find us pushed into the
garret, and forced to eat at second table, while our masters take our best, but of what they leave us thou shalt
have thy share.â

âIs ât so bad as that?â marvelled Mr. Meredith, as, passing by the parlour, he was shown into the kitchen, and
a chair set for him before the fire.

âThee knows the tenets of our faith, and that I accept them,â replied the Quaker. âYet the last few days have
made me feel that non-resistanceââ

âThomas!â reproved his sister. âSay it not, for when the curse is oâer, ât will grieve thee to have even thought
it.â

If the tempered spirit of the elders spoke thus, it was more than the warm blood of youth could do, and
Tabitha gave a loose to her woes.

ââT is past endurance!â she cried, âto come and treat us all as if we were enemies who had no right even to
breathe. They take possession of our houses and turn them into pig-sties with their filthy German ways; they
eat our best and make us slave for them day and night; they plunder as they please, not merely our cattle and
corn, so that we are forced to beg back from them the very food we eat, but take as well our horses, our silver,
our clothes, and whatever else happens to please their fancy. The regiment of Lossberg has at this moment
nine waggon-loads of plunder in the Fremantle barn. No woman is safe on the streets after sundown, and
scarcely so in the day-time, while night after night the town rings with their drunken carousals. I told Friend
Penrhyn the other night that if he had the spunk of a house cat he would get something to fight with, if ât were

XXXII UNDER DURANCE 148

nothing better than a toasting-fork tied to a stick, and cross the river to Washington; and so I say to every man
who stays in Trenton. I only wish I were not a female!â

âHush, Tabitha!â chided Miss Drinker, âât is Godâs will that we suffer as we do, and thee shouldst bow to it.â

âI donât believe it âs Godâs will that we should be turned out of our rooms and made to live in the garret, or
even in the barns, as some are forced to do; I donât believe itâs Godâs will that they should have taken our
silver tea-service and spoons. If God is just, He must want Washington to beat them, and so every man would
be doing Godâs work who went to help him.â Evidently with whatever strength her father and aunt held to the
tenets of their sect, Tabithaâs was not sufficiently ingrained to stand the test of the Hessian occupation.

âDost think it is Godâs work to kill fellow-mortals?â expostulated Miss Drinker. âNo more of such talk, child;
it is time we were making ready for supper.â

There was, however, very much more talk of this kind over the hastily improvised meal, and small wonder for
it. In a town of less than a thousand inhabitants, nearly thirteen hundred troops, with their inevitable camp
followers, were forcibly quartered, filling every house and every barn, to the dire discomfort of the people. As
if this in itself were not enough, the Hessian soldiery, habituated to the plundering of European warfare, and
who had been sold at so much per head by their royal rulers to fight another countryâs battles, brought with
them to America ideas of warfare which might serve to conquer, but would never serve to pacify, Englandâs
colonies. Open and violent seizure had been made, without regard to the political tenets of the owner, of every
kind of provision; and this had generally been accompanied with stealthy plundering of much else by the
common soldiery, and, indeed, by some of the officers. Thus, in every way, despite their submissions and
oaths of allegiance to King George, the Jerseymen were being treated as if they were enemies.

Of this treatment the Drinker family was a fair example. Without so much as âby your leave,â Colonel Rahl
had taken possession of the first two floors of their house for himself and the six or seven officers whom he
made his boon companions. Moreover, Mr. Drinker was called upon to furnish food, firewood, and even
forage for them; while his servants were compelled to labour from morning till night in the service of the new
over lords.

When the squire, after his fatiguing day, was compelled, along with his host and hostess and the girls, to climb
two flights of stairs to an ice-cold garret, his loyalty was little warmer than the atmosphere; and when the five
were further forced to make the best they could of two narrow trundle-beds, but a brief time before deemed
none too good for the coloured servitors, with a scanty supply of bedclothes to eke the discomfort, he became
quite of the same mind with Tabitha. Even the most flaming love of royalty and realm serves not to keep
warm toes extended beyond short blankets at Christmas-tide. It is not strange that late in December, 1776, all
Jersey was mined with discontent, and needed but the spark of Continental success to explode.

Clowes had left his friends, after the interview with Rahl, to quarter himself upon an army acquaintance, and
thus knew nothing of the hardships to which they were subjected. When he heard in the morning how they had
fared, he at once sought the commander, and by a shrewd exaggeration of the Meredithsâ relations with
Howe, supplemented by some guineas, secured the banishment of enough officers from the house to restore to
the Drinkers two of their rooms.

To contribute to their entertainment, as well as to their comfort, he brought them word that Colonel Rahl, by
his favour, bid them all to a Christmas festival the following day; and when Mr. and Miss Drinker refused to
have aught to do with an unknown German, and possibly Papistical, if not devilish orgy, he obtained the
rescinding of this veto by pointing out how unwise it would be to offend a man on whom their comfort for the
winter so much depended.

XXXII UNDER DURANCE 149

It was, as it proved, a very novel and wonderful experience to the girls. After the two oâclock dinner which
the invading force had compelled the town to adopt, the three regiments of Anspach, Lossberg, and Rahl, and
the detachments of the Yagers and light horse, with beating drums and flying colours, paraded from one end
of the town to the other, ending with a review immediately in front of the Drinkersâ house. Following this the
regimental bands of hautboys played a series of German airs which the now disbanded rank and file joined in
vocally. Then, as night and snow set in, a general move was made indoors, at Rahlâs quarters, to the parlour,
where a tall spruce tree, brilliant with lighted tallow dips, and decorated with bits of coloured paper, red-tinted
eggs, and not a little of the recent plunder, drew forth cries of admiration from both Janice and Tabitha,
neither of whom had ever seen the like.

After a due enjoyment of the treeâs beauty, the gifts were distributed; and then the company went to the
dining-room, where the table sagged with the best that barnyard and pantry could be made to produce, plus a
perfect forest of bottles,â tall, squat, and bulbous. The sight of such goodly plenty was irresistible, and the
cheer and merriment grew apace. The girls, eagerly served and all the time surrounded by a host of such
officers as could speak English, and in fact by some who, for want of that language, could only show their
admiration by ardent glances, were vastly set up by the unaccustomed attentions; the squire felt a new warmth
of loyalty creep through his blood with the draining of each glass; and even Miss Drinkerâs sallow and
belined spinster face took on a rosy hue and a cheerful smile as the evening advanced.

A crescendo of enjoyment secured by means of wine is apt to lack restraint and presently, as the fun grew, it
began to verge on the riotous. The officers pressed about the girls until the two were separated, and Janice
found herself in a corner surrounded by flushed-faced men who elbowed and almost wrestled with one
another as to which should stand closest to her. Suddenly one man so far forgot himself as to catch her about
the waist; and but for a prompt ducking of her head as she struggled to free herself, she would have been
forcibly kissed. Her cries rose above the sounds of conviviality; but even before the first was uttered, Clowes,
who had kept close to her the whole evening, struck the officer, and the whole room was instantly in a
turmoil, the women screaming, the combatants locked, others struggling to separate them, and Rahl shouting
half-drunken orders and curses. Just as the uproar was at its greatest came a loud thundering at the door; and
when it was opened a becloaked dragoon, white with snow, entered and gave Rahl a despatch. Both the
dispute and the conviviality ceased, as every one paused to learn what the despatch portended.

The commander was by this time so fuddled with drink that he could not so much as break the seal, much less
read the contents; and the commissary, who for personal reasons had been drinking lightly, came to his
assistance, and read aloud as follows:â

Burlington, Dec. 25, 1776.

Sir,âBy a spy just come in I have word that Mr. Washington, being informed of our troops
having marched into winter quarters, and having been reinforced by the arrival of a column
under the command of Sullivan, meditates an attack on some of our posts. I do not believe
that in the present state of the river a crossing is possible, but be assured my information is
undoubtedly true, and in case the ice clears, I advise you to be upon your guard against an
unexpected attack at Trenton.

I am, sir, your most obedât hâble servât,

James Grant, Major-General.

âNein, nein,â grunted Rahl, tipsily, âI mineself has vort dat Vashingtonâs mens hass neider shoes nor
blankets, und die mit cold und hunger. Dey vill not cross to dis side, mooch ice or no ice, but if dey do, ye
prisoners of dem make.â

XXXII UNDER DURANCE 150

And once more the toasting and merry-making was resumed.

With not a little foresight the three ladies had availed themselves of the lull to escape from the festival to their
own room, where, not content with locks and bolts, nothing would do Miss Drinker, as the sounds below
swelled in volume and laxity, but the heavy bureau should be moved against the door as an additional barrier.

âOur peril is dire,â she admonished the girls; âand if to-morrowâs sun finds me escaped unharmed I shall
thank Heaven indeed.â Then she proceeded to lecture Janice. âBe assured thee must have given the lewd
creatures some encouragement, or they would never have dared a familiarity. Not a one of them showed me
the slightest disrespect!â

âOh, Jan,â whispered Tibbie, once they were in bed and snuggled close together, âif thee hadst been kissed!â

âWhat then?â questioned the maiden.

âIt would be so horrible to be kissed by a man!â declared the friend.

âWilt promise to never, never tell?â asked Janice, with bated breath.

âCross my heart,â vowed Tabitha.

âItâwellâIâIt is nât as terrible as you âd think, Tibbie!â

XXXIII
ANOTHER CHRISTMAS PARTY
At the same hour that the Hessians were parading through the village streets a horseman was speeding along
the river road on the opposite side of the Delaware. As he came opposite the town, the blare of the hautboys
sounded faintly across the water, and he checked his horse to listen for a moment, and then spurred on.

âAy, prick up your ears,â he muttered to his steed. âYour friends are holding high carnival, and I wonder not
that you long to be with them, âstead of carrying vain messages in a lost cause. But for this damned floe of ice
you âd have had your wish this very night.â

A hundred rods brought the rider within sight of the cross-road at Yardleyâs Ferry, just as a second horseman
issued from it. The first hastily unbuckled and threw back his holster flap, even while he pressed his horse to
come up with the new arrival; while the latter, hearing the sound of hoofs, halted and twisted about in his
saddle.

âWell met, Brereton,â he called when the space between had lessened. âI am seeking his Excellency, who, I
was told at Newtown, was to be found at Mackonkeyâs Ferry. Canst give me a guidance?â

âYou could find your way, Wilkinson, by following the track of Mercerâs brigade. For the last three miles I
could have kept the route, even if I knew not the road, by the bloody footprints. Look at the stains on the
snow.â

âPoor fellows!â responded Wilkinson, feelingly.

âSeven miles theyâve marched to-day, with scarce a sound boot to a company, and now theyâll be marched
back with not so much as a sight of the enemy.â

XXXIII ANOTHER CHRISTMAS PARTY 151

âYou think the attack impossible?â

âImpossible!â ejaculated Brereton. âLook at the rush of ice, man. âT would be absolute madness to attempt a
crossing. The plan was for Cadwalladerâs brigade to attack Burlington at the same time we made our attempt,
but I bring word from there that the river is impassable and the plan abandoned. His Excellency cannot fight
both the British and such weather.â

âI thought the game up when my general refused the command and set out for Philadelphia,â remarked
Wilkinson.

âGates is too good a politician and too little of a fighter to like forlorn hopes,â sneered Brereton. âHe leaves
Washington to bear the risk, and, Lee being out of the way, sets off at once to make favour with Congress,
hoping, I have little doubt, that another discomfiture or miscarriage will serve to put him in the saddle. If we
are finally conquered, ât will not be by defeat in the field, but by the dirty politics with which this nation is
riddled, and which makes a man general because he comes from the right State, and knows how to wire-pull
and intrigue. Faugh!â

A half-hour served to bring them to their destination, a rude wooden pier, employed to conduct teams to the
ferry-boat. Now, however, the ice was drifted and wedged in layers and hummocks some feet beyond its end,
and outside this rushed the river, black and silent, save for the dull crunch of the ice-floes as they ground
against one another in their race down the stream. On the end of the dock stood a solitary figure watching a
number of men, who, with pick and axe, were cutting away the lodged ice that blocked the pier, while already
a motley variety of boats being filled with men could be seen at each point of the shore where the ground ice
made embarkation possible. Along the banks groups of soldiers were clustered about fires of fence-rails
wherever timber or wall offered the slightest shelter.

[Illustration: âThou art my soldier.â]

Dismounting, the two aides walked to the dock and delivered their letters to the commander. Taking the
papers, Washington gave a final exhortation to the sappers and miners: âLook alive there, men. Every minute
now is worth an hour to-morrow,â and, followed by Brereton, walked to the ferry-house that he might find
light with which to read the despatches. By the aid of the besmoked hall lantern, he glanced hastily through
the two letters. âGeneral Gates leaves to us all the honour to be gained to-night. Colonel Cadwallader declares
it impossible to get his guns across,â he told his aide, without a trace of emotion in his voice, as he refolded
the despatches and handed them to him. Then his eye flashed with a sudden exultation as he continued: âIt
seems there are some in our own force, as well as the enemy, who need a lesson in winter campaigning.â

âThen your Excellency intends to attempt a crossing?â deprecated Brereton.

âWe shall attack Trenton before daybreak, Brereton; and as we are like to have a cold and wet march, stay you
within doors and warm yourself after your ride. You are not needed, and there is a good fire in the kitchen.â

Brereton, with a disapproving shake of his head, stepped from the hallway into the kitchen. Only one man was
in the room, and he, seated at the table, was occupied in rolling cartridges.

âHo, parson, this is new work for you,â greeted Brereton, giving him a hearty slap on the shoulder. âYou are
putting your sulphur and brimstone in concrete form.â

âAy,â assented McClave, âand, as befits my calling, properly combining them with religion.â

âHow so?â demanded Brereton, taking his position before the fire.

XXXIII ANOTHER CHRISTMAS PARTY 152

âYou see, man,â explained the presbyter, âit occurred to me that, on so wet a night, ât would be almost
impossible for the troops to keep their cartridges dry, since scarce a one in ten has a proper cartouch-box; so I
set to making some new ones, and, having no paper, Iâm eâen using the leaves of my own copy of Wattsâ
Hymns.â

âA good thought,â said Brereton; âand if you will give them to me I will see to it that they be kept dry and
ready for use. Not that they will need much care; there is small danger that Watts will ever be anything but
dry.â

âTut, tut, man,â reproved the clergyman. âDry or not dry, he has done Godâs work in the past, and, with the
aid of Heaven, heâll do it again to-night.â

The rumble of artillery at this point warned the aide that the embarkation was actually beginning, and, hastily
catching up the cartridges already made, he unbuttoned the flannel shirt he wore and stuffed them in.
Throwing his cloak about him, he hurried out.

The ice had finally been removed, and a hay barge dragged up to the pier. Without delay two 12-pounders
were rolled upon it, with their complement of men and horses; and, leaving further superintendence of the
embarkation to Greene and Knox, Washington and his staff took their places between the guns. Two row
galleys having been made fast to the front, the men in them bent to their oars, and the barge moved slowly
from the shore, its start being the signal to all the other craft to put off.

The instant the shelter of the land was lost, the struggle with the elements began. The wind, blowing savagely
from the northeast, swept upon them, and, churning the river into foam, drove the bitterly cold spray against
man and beast. Masses of ice, impelled by the current and blast, were only kept from colliding with the boat
by the artillerymen, who, with the rammers and sponges of the guns, thrust them back, while the bowsmen in
the tractive boats had much ado to keep a space clear for the oars to swing. To make the stress the greater,
before a fifty yards had been compassed the air was filled with snow, sweeping now one way and now
another, quite shutting out all sight of the shores, and making the rushing current of the black, sullen river the
sole means by which direction could be judged.

âDamn this weather!â swore Brereton, as an especially biting sweep of wind and water made him crouch the
lower behind his shivering horse.

âNothing short of that would serve to put warmth into it,â asserted Colonel Webb. âYou âre not like to obtain
your wish, Jack, though your cursing may put you where youâll long for a touch of it.â

âThou canst not fright me with threat of hell-fire damnation on such a night as this, Sam,â retorted Brereton.

âGentlemen,â interposed Washington, drily, âlet me call your attention to the General Order of last August,
relative to profane language.â

âCan your Excellency suggest any more moderate terms to apply to such a night?â asked Brereton, with a
laugh.

âBe thankful youâve something between you and the river, my boy. Twenty-four years ago this very week I
was returning from a mission to the Ohio, and to cross a river we made a raft of logs. The ice surged against
us so forcibly that I set out my pole to prevent our being swept down the stream; but the rapidity of the current
threw the raft with so much violence against the pole that it jerked me out into ten feet of water, and I was like
to have drowned. This wind and sleet seem warm when I remember that; and had Gates and Cadwallader been
there, the storm and ice of to-night would not have seemed to them such obstacles. âT was my first public

XXXIII ANOTHER CHRISTMAS PARTY 153

service,â he added after a slight pause. âWho knows that to-night may not be my last?â

ââT is ever a possibility,â spoke up Webb, âsince your Excellency is so reckless in exposing yourself to the
enemyâs fire.â

Washington shrugged his shoulders. âI am in more danger from the rear than from the enemy,â he said
equably.

âAy,â agreed Jack, âbut we fight both to-night. Give us victory at Trenton, and we need not spend thought on
Baltimore.â

âCongress is too frightened itselfââ began Baylor, but a touch on his arm from the commander-in-chief
checked the indiscreet speech.

Departure had been taken from the Pennsylvania shore before ten; but ice, wind, and current made the
crossing so laborious and slow that a landing of the first detachment was not effected till nearly twelve. Then
the boats were sent back for their second load, the advance meanwhile huddling together wherever there was
the slightest shelter from the blast and the hail that was now cutting mercilessly. Not till three oâclock did the
second division land, and another hour was lost in the formation of the column. At last, however, the order to
march could be given, and the twenty-four hundred weary, besoaked, and wellnigh frozen men set off through
the blinding storm on the nine-mile march to Trenton.

At Yardleyâs Ferry the force divided, Sullivanâs division keeping to the river turnpike, intending to enter
Trenton from the south, while the main division took the cross-road, so as to come out to the north of the
town, the plan being to place the enemy thus betwixt two fires.

Owing to the delay in crossing the river, it was daylight when the outskirts of the town were reached, but the
falling snow veiled the advance, and here the column was halted temporarily to permit of a reconnoissance.
While the troops stood at ease an aide from Sullivanâs detachment reported that it had arrived on the other
side of the village, and was ready for the attack, save that their cartridges were too damp to use.

âVery well, sir,â ordered Washington. âReturn and tell General Sullivan he must rely on the bayonet.â

âYour Excellency,â said Colonel Hand, stepping up, âmy regiment is in the same plight, and our rifles carry
no bayonets.â

âWe kin club both them and the Hessians all the same,â spoke up a voice from the ranks.

âHere are some dry cartridges,â broke in Brereton.

âLet your men draw their charges and reload, Colonel Hand,â commanded Washington.

In a moment the order to advance was issued, and the column debouched upon the post road leading toward
Princeton. The first sign of life was a man in a front yard, engaged in cutting wood; the commander-in-chief,
who was leading the advance, called to him:â

âWhich way is the Hessian picket?â

âFind out for yourself,â retorted the chopper.

âSpeak out, man,â roared Webb, hotly, âthis is General Washington.â

XXXIII ANOTHER CHRISTMAS PARTY 154

âGod bless and prosper you, sir!â shouted the man. âFollow me, and Iâll show you,â he added, starting down
the road at a run. As he came to the house, without a pause, he swung his axe and burst open the door with a
single blow. âCome on,â he shrieked, and darted in, followed by some of the riflemen.

Leaving them to secure the picket, the regiments went forward, just as a desultory firing from the front
showed that the alarm had been given by Sullivanâs attack. Pushing on, a sight of the enemy was gained,âa
confused mass of men some three hundred yards away, but in front of them two guns were already being
wheeled into position by artillerists, with the obvious purpose of checking the advance till the regiments had
time to form.

âCapture the battery!â came the stern voice of the commander.

âForward, double quick!â shouted Colonel Hand.

Brereton, putting spurs to his horse, joined in the rush of men as the regiment broke into a run. âLook Out,
Hand!â he yelled. âTheyâll be ready to fire before we can get there, and in this narrow road weâll be cut to
pieces. Give them a dose of Watts.â

âHalt!â roared Hand, and then in quick succession came the orders, âDeploy! Take aim! Fire!â

âHurrah for the Hymns!â cheered Brereton, as a number of the gunners and matross men dropped, and the
remainder, deserting the cannon, fell back on the infantry. âCome on!â he roared, as the Virginia light horse,
taking advantage of the open order, raced the riflemen to the guns. Barely were they reached, when a mounted
officer rode up to the Hessian regiments and cried: âForwärts!â waving his sword toward the cannon.

âWe canât hold the guns against them!â yelled Brereton. "Over with them, men!â

In an instant the soldiers with rifles and the cavalry with the rammers that had been dropped were clustered
about the cannon, some prying, some lifting, some pulling, and before the foe could reach them the two pieces
of artillery were tipped over and rolled into the side ditches, the Americans scattering the moment the guns
were made useless to the British.

This gave the Continental infantry in the rear their opportunity, and they poured in a scathing volley, quickly
followed by the roar of Colonel Forrestâs battery, which unlimbered and opened fire. A wild confusion
followed, the enemy advancing, until the American regiments charged them in face of their volleys. Upon this
they broke, and falling back in disorder, endeavoured to escape to the east road through an orchard. Checking
the charge, Washington threw Stevensâ brigade and Handâs riflemen, now re-formed, out through the fields,
heading them off. Flight in this direction made impossible, the enemy retreated toward the town, but the
column under Sullivan now blocked this outlet. Forrestâs fieldpieces were pushed forward, Washington riding
with them, utterly unheeding of both the enemyâs fire, though the bullets were burying themselves in the
snow all about him, and of the expostulations of his staff. Indicating the new position for the guns, he ordered
them loaded with canister.

Colonel Forrest himself stooped to sight one of the 12-pounders, then cried: âSir, they have struck.â

âStruck!â exclaimed Washington.

âYes,â averred Forrest, exultingly. âTheir colours are down, and they have grounded their arms.â

Washington cantered toward the enemy.

XXXIII ANOTHER CHRISTMAS PARTY 155

âYour Excellency,â shouted Baylor, who with the infantry had been well forward, âthe Hessians have
surrendered. Here is Colonel Rahl.â

Washington rode to where, supported by two sergeants, the officer stood, his brilliant uniform already
darkened by the blood flowing from two wounds, and took from his hand the sword the Hessian commander,
with bowed head, due to both shame and faintness, held out to him.

âLet his wounds receive instant attention,â the general ordered. Wheeling his horse, he looked at the three
regiments of Hessians. ââT is a glorious day for our country, Baylor!â he said, the personal triumph already
forgotten in the greater one.

XXXIV
HOLIDAY WEEK AT TRENTON
The Christmas revel of the Hessians had held far into morning hours; and though the ladies so prudently
retired, it was not to sleep, as it proved, for the uproar put that out of the question. At last, however, the
merry-making ceased by degrees, as man after man staggered off to his quarters, or succumbing to drink,
merely took a horizontal position in the room of the festivity, and quiet, quickly succeeded by slumber,
descended upon the household.

To the women it seemed as if the turmoil had but just ended, ere it began anew. The first alarm was a
thundering on the front door, so violent that the intent seemed to be to break it down rather than to gain
admission from the inside. Then came a rush of heavy boots pounding upstairs, followed by a renewal of the
ponderous blows on every door, accompanied now by the stentorian shouting of hasty sentences in German.

As if the din were not sufficient, Miss Drinker, in her fright at the assault directed against the barrier to which
she had pinned her own reliance of safety, promptly gave vent to a series of shrieks, intermixed, when breath
failed, with gasping predictions to the girls as to the fate that awaited them, scaring the maidens most
direfully. Their terror was not lessened by the growing volume of shouts outside the house, and by the
rub-a-dub-dub of the drums, and the tantara of the bugles, as the âTo armsâ was sounded along the village
street. Barely had they heard Rahl and the other officers go plunging downstairs, when the scattering crack of
muskets began to be heard, swelling quickly into volleys and then into the unmistakable platoon firing, which
bespoke an attack in force. Finally, and as a last touch to their alarm, came the roar of artillery, as Forrestâs
and Knoxâs batteries opened fire.

The whole conflict took not over thirty-five minutes, but to the three bedfellows it seemed to last for hours.
The silence that then fell so suddenly proved even more awful, however, and became quickly so insupportable
that Janice was for getting out of bed to learn its cause, a project that Miss Drinker prohibited. âI know not
what is transpiring,â she avowed, âbut whatever the disturbance, our danger is yet to come.â

The event verified her opinion, for presently heavy and hurried footsteps of many men sounded below stairs,
terminating the brief silence. With little delay the tramp of boots came upstairs, and a loud rap on the door
drew a stifled cry from the spinster as she buried her head under the bedclothes, and made the two girls clutch
each other with fright.

âOpen!â called a commanding voice. âOpen, I say!â it repeated, as no answer came. âBatter it in, then!â and at
the order the stocks of two muskets shattered the door panels; the bureau was tipped over on its face with a
crash, and Brereton, sword in hand, jumped through the breach.

XXXIV HOLIDAY WEEK AT TRENTON 156

It was an apparently empty room into which the aide entered, but a mound under the bedclothes told a
different tale.

âHere are other Hessian pigs whoâve drunk more than theyâve bled,â he sneered, as he tossed back the
counterpane and blankets with his sword-point, thus uncovering three becapped heads, from each of which
issued a scream, while three pairs of hands wildly clutched the covering.

The nightcaps so effectually disguised the faces that not a one did the officer recognise in his first hasty
glance.

âHo!â he jeered. âSmall wonder the fellow lay abed. Come, up with you, my Don Juan,â he added, prodding
Miss Drinker through the bedclothes with his sword. ââT is no time for bearded men to lie abed.â

âHelp, help!â shrieked Janice, and ââT is my aunt!â cried Tabitha, in unison, but the spinsterâs fear was quite
forgot in the insulting allusion to the somewhat noticeable hirsute adornment on her face; sitting up in bed,
she pointed at the door, and sternly ordered, âCease from insulting gentlewomen, brute, and leave this
chamber!â

âZounds!â burst out Jack, in his amazement; then he turned and roared to the gaping and snickering soldiers,
âGet out of here, every doodle of you, and beâto you!â Keeping his back to the bed, he said, âI pray your
pardon, maâam, for disturbing you; our spies assured us that only Hessian officers slept here.â

âGo!â commanded the offended and unrelenting old maid.

The officer took a step toward the door, halted, and remarked savagely, âOur positions are somewhat
reversed, Miss Meredith. âT is poetic justice, indeed, which threatens you a taste of the captivity you schemed
in my behalf; âhe cries best who cries last.ââ

âI had naught to do with thy captivation!â protested Janice, indignantly, âthough thou wouldst not believe me;
and but for me thouâdst still be a prisoner.â

âA well-dressed-up tale, but told too late to gain credence,â sneered the officer. âYou made a cully of me
once. I defy you to ever again.â

âA man who thinks such vile thoughts is welcome to them,â retorted the girl, proudly.

âDost intend to put a finish to thy intrusion upon the privacy of females?â objurgated Miss Drinker; and at the
question Brereton flung out of the room without more words.

The ladies made a hasty toilet, and descended to the kitchen, to find the maids deep in the preparation of
breakfast, while standing near the fire was a coloured man in a brown livery who ducked low to Janice as he
grinned a recognition.

âOh!â exclaimed the girl, and then, âHowâs Blueskin?â

âLorâ bless de chile, she doan forget ole Willium nor dat horse,â chuckled the darkey. âDat steed, miss, hardly
git a good feed now once a week, but he knows dat he carries his Excellency, anâ dat de army âs watchinâ
him, anâ he make believe he chock full of oats all de time. He jusâ went offen his head when Kuânel Forrestâs
guns wuz a-bustinâ de Hessians all to pieces dis morninâ, anâ de way he dun arch his neck anâ swish his tail
when Ginâl Howe give up his sword made de enemy stare.â

XXXIV HOLIDAY WEEK AT TRENTON 157

âYouâll purvey my compliments to his Highness, Mr. Lee,â requested the cook, âanâ âspress to him de
mortification we âsperiences at being necessitated to tender him his tea outen de elegantest ob best Japan.
âSplain to him dat we âse a real quality family, anâ regularly accustomed to de finest ob plate, till de Hessians
depredated it.â

âIs this for General Washington?â questioned Janice, with sudden interest in the tray upon which the cook had
placed a china tea-service, some hot corn bread, and a rasher of bacon.

âYes, miss,â explained William. âHis Excellency âs in de parlour, a-lookinâ over de papers of de dead ginâl,
anâ he say see if I kianât git him some breakfast.â

âOh,â begged the girl, eagerly, âmay nât I take it to him?â

âDat yoâ may, honey,â acceded the black, yielding to the spell of the lass. âMassa allus radder see a pooty
face dan black ole Billyâs. Jusâ yoâ run along with it, chile, anâ sâprise him.â

Catching up the waiter, the maiden carried it to the parlour, which she entered after knocking, in response to
Washingtonâs behest. The general looked up from the paper he was conning and instantly smiled a
recognition to the girl.

âYou are not rid of us yet, you see, Miss Janice,â he said.

âNor wish to be, your Excellency,â vouched the girl, as she set the tray on the table.

âI remember thy wish for our cause when last we met,â went on the commander, âand who knows but it has
served us in good stead this very morning? I had the vanity that day to think thy interest was for the general,
but I have just unravelled it to its true source.â

âIndeed,â protested Janice, sorely puzzled by his words, âât was only thyââ

âNay, nay, my dear,â chided Washington, smiling pleasantly; âât is nothing to be ashamed of, and I ought to
have suspected that thy interest was due to some newer and brighter blade than an old one like myself. He is a
lucky fellow to have won so charming a maid, and one brave enough to take such risk for him.â

âLa, your Excellency,â stammered the girl, completely mystified, âI know not what you mean!â

Still smiling, Washington set down the tea he was now drinking and selected a paper from a pile on the table.
âI have just been perusing Colonel Harcourtâs report to General Grant, in reference to the traitorous conduct
of one Janice Meredith, spinster, and it has informed me of much that Colonel Brereton chose to withhold,
though he pretended to make me a full narration. The sly beau said ât was the cook cut him loose, Miss
Janice.â

âOh, prithee, General Washington,â beseeched a very blushing young lady, âwilt please favour me by letting
Colonel Breretonâwho is less than nothing to meâread the report?â

âThou takest strange ways to prove thy lack of interest,â rejoined the general, his eyes merry at the seeming
contradiction.

ââT is indeed not as thou surmisest,â protested Janice, redder than ever; âbut Colonel Brereton thought I was
concerned in his captivation, and would not believe a message I sent to him, and but just since he has cruelly
insulted me, and so I want him to learn how shamefully he has misjudged me, so that he shall feel properly

XXXIV HOLIDAY WEEK AT TRENTON 158

mean and low.â

âThat he shall,â Washington assented, âand every man should be made to feel the same who lacks faith in
your face, Miss Janice. The rascal distinguished himself in this morningâs affair, so I let him bear my
despatches and the Hessian standard to Congress; however, as soon as he returns he shall smart for his sins, be
assured. But, my dear,â and here the eyes of the speaker twinkled, âwhen due punishment has been meted out,
remember that forgiveness is one of your sexâs greatest excellences.â Washington took the hand of the girl
and bent over it. âNow leave me, for we have much to attend to before we can set to getting our prisoners
across the river, out of the reach of their friends.â

Twenty-four hours later the village which had been so over-burdened with soldiers was stripped as clear of
them as if there were not one in the land. It took a day to get the thousand prisoners safely beyond the
Delaware, and three more were spent in giving the Continentals a much-needed rest from the terrible exposure
and fatigue they had under-gone; but this done, Washington once more crossed the river and reoccupied
Trenton, induced to take the risk by the word brought to him that the militia of New Jersey, driven to
desperation by the British occupation, and heartened by the success of Trenton, were ready to rise if they had
but a fighting point about which to rally.

The expectation proved erroneous, for the presence of the little force at Trenton was more than offset by the
prompt mobilisation of all the British troops in the State at Princeton, and the hurrying of Cornwallis, with
reinforcements, from New York, to resume the command. As Washingtonâs army mustered less than five
thousand, one-third of whom were raw Pennsylvania militia, while that of the British general when
concentrated exceeded eight thousand, the prudent elected to stay safely within doors and await the result of
the coming conflict before deciding whether they should forget their recently signed oaths of allegiance and
cast in their lot with the Continental cause.

Yet another difficulty, too, beset the commander-in-chief. The terms of the New England regiments expired
on the last day of the year, and though the approach of the enemy made a speedy action certain, the men
refused to re-enlist, or even to serve for a fortnight longer. Such was the desperate plight of the general that he
finally offered them a bounty if they would but remain for six weeks, and, after much persuasion, more than
half of them consented to stay the brief time. The army chest being wholly without funds, Washington
pledged his personal fortune to the payment of the bounty, though in private he spoke scornfully of the
regimentsâ ânoble exampleâ and âextraordinary attachment to their country,â the fighting spirit too strong
within him to enable him to understand desertion of the cause at such an hour. Quite a number, even, who
took the bounty, deserted the moment the money was received.

Cornwallis lost not a moment, once his troops were gathered, in seeking vengeance for Trenton; and on
January 2 spies brought word to Washington that the British were approaching in force by the Princeton
post-road. A detachment was at once thrown forward to meet their advance, and for several hours every inch
of ground was hotly contested. Then, the main body of the enemy having come up, the Americans fell back on
their reserves, and the whole Continental army retreated through the village and across the bridge over
Assanpink Creek,âa tributary stream emptying into the Delaware just east of Trenton. Here the troops were
ranged along the steep banks to renew the contest, the batteries being massed at the bridge and at the two
fords, and some desultory firing occurred. But it was now dark, and Cornwallisâs troops having marched
fifteen miles, the commander postponed the attack till the morrow, and the two armies bivouacked for the
night on opposite sides of the brook, within a hundred and fifty yards of each other.

âMy Lord,â protested Sir William Erskine, when the order to encamp was given, âmay not the enemy escape
under cover of the night?â

XXXIV HOLIDAY WEEK AT TRENTON 159

âWhere to?â demanded Cornwallis. âThis time there will be no crossing of the Delaware, for we are too close
on their heels; and if they retreat down the river, we can fight them when we please. A little success has
undone Mr. Washington, and the fox is at last run to cover.â

While at supper, the British commander was informed by an orderly that two civilians desired word with him,
and without leaving the table he granted an audience.

âA petticoat, eh?â he muttered, as a man and woman entered the room; and then as the lady pushed back her
calash, he ordered: âA chair for Miss Meredith, sergeant.â The girl seated, he went on: âSir William spoke of
you to me just as I was leaving New York, and instructed me, if you were findable, to send you to New York.
Iâ faith, the general had more to say of your coming than he had of my teaching Mr. Washington a lesson. He
told me to put you under charge of Lord Clowes without delay.â

âBut he was captivated,â announced Mr. Drinker.

âSo I learned at Princeton; therefore the matter must await my return.â

âI have come with the young lady, my Lord,â spoke up Mr. Drinker, âto ask thy indulgence in behalf of
herself and her father.â

âYes, Lord Cornwallis,â said Janice, finding her tongue and eager to use it. âWe came here to see General
Grant, but he was away, and dadda had a slight attack of the gout, from a cold he took, and then he very rashly
drank too much at Colonel Rahlâs party, and that swelled his foot so that heâs lain abed ever since, till to-day,
when we thought to set out for Brunswick; but the snow having melted, our sleigh could not travel, and every
one expecting a battle wanted to get out of town themselves, so we could get no carriage, nor even a cart.â
Here Miss Meredith paused for breath with which to go on.

âFriend Meredith,â said Mr. Drinker, taking up the explanation, âthough not able to set foot to the ground,
conceives that he can travel on horseback by easy riding; and rather than risk remaining in a town that is like
to be the scene of to-morrowâs unrighteous slaughter, he hopes thee will grant him permission and a pass to
return to Brunswick.â

âThere will be no fight in the town to-morrow,â asserted Cornwallis; âbut there may be some artillery firing
before we can carry their position, so ât is no place for non-combatants, much less women. You canât do
better than get back to Greenwood, where later Iâll arrange to fulfil Sir Williamâs orders. Make out a pass for
two, Erskine. When do you wish to start, Miss Meredith?â

âDadda said weâd get away before daylight, so as to be well out of town before the battle began.â

âWisely thought. The second brigade lies at Maidenhead and the fourth at Princeton; and as both have orders
to join me, youâll meet them on the road. This paper, however, will make all easy."

âThank you,â said the girl, gratefully, as she took the pass.

âDidst see Mr. Washington when he was in town?â inquired the earl of Mr. Drinker.

âNot I,â replied the Quaker; âbut friend Janice had word with him.â

âYou seem to play your cards to stand well with both commanders, Miss Meredith,â intimated the officer, a
little ironically. âDid the rebel general seem triumphant over his easy victory?â

XXXIV HOLIDAY WEEK AT TRENTON 160

âHe said naught about it to me,â answered Janice.

âWithin a few hours heâll learn the difference between British regulars and half-drunk Hessians.â Cornwallis
glanced out of the window to where, a quarter of a mile away, could be seen the camp-fires of the Continental
force burning brightly. âHe âd best have done his bragging while he could.â

CHAPTER XXXV
THE âSTOLE AWAYâ
It was barely four oâclock the following morning when, after a breakfast by candle-light, the squire and
Janice, the former only with much assistance and many groans, mounted Joggles and Breretonâs mare. Mr.
Drinker rode with them through the village, on his way to join the Misses Drinker, who, two days before, on
the first warning of a conflict, had been sent away to a friendâs, as would Janice have been also, had she not
insisted on staying with her father. At the crossroads, therefore, after a due examination of their passes by the
picket, adieux were made, and the guests, with many thanks, turned north on the Princeton post-road, while
the host trotted off on the Pennington turnpike.

It was still dark when, an hour later, the riders reached Maidenhead, to find the second brigade of the British
clustered about their camp-fires; but in the momentâs delay, while the officer of the day was scrutinising the
safe-conduct, the drums beat the reveille, and the village street was alive with breakfast preparations as father
and daughter were permitted to resume their journey. It was a clear, cold morning, and as the twilight slowly
brightened into sunshine, the whole landscape glistened radiantly with a heavy hoar-frost that for the moment
gleamed and shimmered as if the face of the country had been rubbed with some phosphorescent substance, or
as if the riders were viewing it through prism glasses.

âOh, dadda, is nât it beautiful?â exclaimed Janice, delightedly, as they rode down the hill to the bridge over
Stony Creek.

âWhat? Where?â demanded that worthy, looking about in all directions.

[Illustration: ââT is to rescue thee, Janice.â]

âThe fields, and the trees, andââ

âCanât ye keep your thoughts from gadding off on such nonsense, Jan?â cavilled her father, fretfully, his
gouty foot putting him in anything but a sweet mood. âOne would think ye had never seen pasture or
woodland beâHo!â he ejaculated, interrupting his reproof, âwhat âs that sound?â

The words were but spoken when the front files of a regiment just topping the hill across the brook came in
view and descended the road at quick step to the bridge, their gay scarlet uniforms, flying colours, and shining
gun barrels adding still more to the brilliancy.

âHalt!â was the order to the troops as they came up to the riders, and the officer took the pass that the squire
held out to him. âWhat hour left you Trenton?â he demanded.

âFour oâclock.â

âAnd heard you any firing after leaving?â asked Colonel Mawhood, eagerly.

âNot a sound.â

CHAPTER XXXV THE âSTOLE AWAYâ 161

âI fear none the less that the fighting will be all over ere the Seventeenth can get there, much more the Fortieth
and Fifty-fifth,â he grumbled, as he returned the paper. âAttention! Sections, break off! Forwardâmarch!â

The order, narrowing the column, allowed the squire and Janice to ride on and cross the bridge. On the other
side of the stream a by-road joined the turnpike, and as Janice glanced along it, she gave a cry of surprise.
âLook, dadda,â she prompted, âthere are more troops!â

âAy,â acceded Mr. Meredith, âât is the rest of the brigade just coming in view.â

âBut that leads not from Princeton,â observed Janice. ââT is the roundabout way to Trenton that joins the river
road on the other side of Assanpink Creek. And, oh, dadda, look at the uniforms! Is ât not the hunting shirt of
the Continental riflemen?â

âGadsbodikins, if the lass is not right!â grunted the squire, when he had got on his glasses. âWhat the deuce
do they here?â

An equal curiosity apparently took possession of the British colonel, for when the Seventeenth had breasted
the hill to a point where the American advance could be seen, the regiment was hastily halted, and in another
moment, reversing direction, returned on its route at double quick, its commander supposing the force in sight
a mere detachment which he could capture or cut to pieces, and little recking that Washingtonâs whole army,
save for a guard to keep their camp-fires burning, had stolen away in the night from the superior force of
British at Trenton, with the object of attacking the fourth brigade at Princeton.

âBy heavens!â snorted the squire, in alarm. âQuicken thy pace, Jan. We are out of the frying-pan and into the
fire with a vengeance.â Then as the horses were put to a trot, he howled with the pain the motion caused his
swathed foot. âSpur on to Princeton, Jan. The pace is more than I can bear, and Iâll turn off into this orchard
for safety,â he moaned, as he indicated a slope to the right of the road.

âIâll not leave thee, dadda,â protested the girl, as she guided the mare over the let-down bars of the fence,
through which her father put Joggles, and in a moment both horses were climbing the declivity under the bare
apple-trees.

The squireâs knowledge of warfare was never likely to win him honour, for with vast circumspection he had
selected the strongest strategic position of the region; and though his back to the British and the rising land in
his front prevented him from realising it, both commanders, with the quick decision of trained officers, put
their forces to a run, in the endeavour to occupy the hill. The Continental riflemen, having the advantage of
light accoutrements and little baggage, were successful; and just as the two riders reached the crest, it was
covered by green and brown shirted men.

âGet to the rear!â stormed an officer at the pair; while, without stopping to form, the men poured in a volley at
the charging British, who, halting, returned the fire, the bullets hurtling and whistling about the
non-combatants in a way that made the squire forget the agonies of his gout in the danger of his position.

Ere the riflemen could reload, the Seventeenth, with fixed bayonets, were upon them, and the two American
regiments, having no defensive weapon, broke and fled in every direction. A mounted officer rode forward
and attempted to stay the flight of the riflemen, then fell wounded from his horse. As he came to the ground,
Janice and her father found themselves once more on the other side of the conflict, as the charging British
swept by them; and the girl screamed as she saw two of the soldiers rush to where the wounded man lay, and
repeatedly thrust their bayonets into him, though she was ignorant that it was Washingtonâs old companion in
arms, General Mercer.

CHAPTER XXXV THE âSTOLE AWAYâ 162

As the riflemen fell back down the hill, Washington in person headed two regiments of Pennsylvania militia,
supported by a couple of pieces of artillery from the right flank to cover the fugitives. Although conscious by
now that he had no mere detachment to fight, Colonel Mawhood, with admirable coolness, ordered the recall
sounded, and re-forming his regiment, led a charge against the new foe. Seeing the Seventeenth advancing at
double quick, in the face of the guns, so fearlessly and steadily, the militia wavered, and were on the point of
deserting the battery, when Washington spurred forward, thus placing himself between the two lines of
soldiers. His splendid and reckless courage steadied the raw militia; they gave a cheer and levelled their
muskets just as the Seventeenth halted and did the same. Within thirty yards of the enemy, and well in
advance of his own men, Washington stood exposed to both volleys as the two lines fired, and for a moment
he was lost to view in the smoke which, blown about him, united in one dense cloud. Slowly the mass lifted,
revealing both general and horse unhurt, and at the sight the Pennsylvania regiments cheered once more.

The time lost by the British in halting and firing proved fatal to the capture of the guns. Handâs riflemen,
advancing, threw in a deadly, scattering fire of trained sharpshooters, while two regiments under Hitchcock
came forward at a run. One moment the Seventeenth held its ground, then broke and fled toward the road,
leaving behind them two brass cannon. For four miles the fugitives were pursued, and many prisoners were
taken.

Musketry on the right showed the day not yet won, however, the Fifty-fifth having pressed forward upon
hearing the fusillade, and but for the check it met from a New England brigade would have come to the aid of
its friends. The flight of the Seventeenth enabled Washington to mass his force against the new arrival; and it
was driven in upon the Fortieth, and then both fell back into the town, taking possession of the college
building, with the evident hope of finding in its walls protection sufficient to make a successful stand. But
when the Continental artillery was brought up and wheeled into position, at the first shot the British
abandoned the stronghold and fled in disorder along the road leading to Brunswick, hotly pursued by a force
which Washington joined.

âItâs a fine fox chase, my boys!â he shouted to the men, in the excitement of the moment.

Brereton, who was riding within hearing, called something to a bugler; and the man, halting in the race, put
his trumpet to his lips and blew a fanfare.

âThere are others can sound the âStole Away,â your Excellency,â shouted Jack, triumphantly. âThat insult is
paid in kind.â

The Continental soldiers were too exhausted by their long night march and their morning fight to follow the
fugitives far, the more that the English, by throwing away their guns, knap-sacks, and other accoutrements,
and by being far less fatigued, were easily able to outstrip their pursuers. Perceiving this, the general ordered
the bugles to sound the recall, and the men fell back on Princeton village.

âWith five hundred fresh troops, or a proper force of light horse, we could have captured every man of them,â
groaned Brereton, âand probably have seized Brunswick, with all its stores.â

Washington nodded his head in assent. ââT is idle to repine,â he said calmly, âbecause the measure of our
success might have been greater. The troops have marched well and fought well.â

âWhat is more,â declared Webb, âa twelve hours ago, the enemy thought us in a cul-de-sac. We have not
merely escaped, but turned our flight into a conquest. How they will grit their teeth when they find themselves
outgeneralled!â

CHAPTER XXXV THE âSTOLE AWAYâ 163

âLess a couple of hundred prisoners to boot,â chimed in Brereton, pointing at the village green, where the
captives were being collected.

âYour Excellency,â reported General Greene, as Washington came up to the college building, âwe have found
a store of shoes and blankets in the college, and all of the papers of the Lord Cornwallis and General Grant.â

âLook to them, Brereton, and report to me at once if there is anything needing instant attention,â directed
Washington.

Jack, tossing his reins to a soldier, followed Greene into Nassau Hall, and was quickly running over the
bundles of papers which the British, with more prudence than prescience, had for safety left behind. Presently
he came upon a great package of signed oaths of allegiance, which he was shoving to one side as of no
immediate importance, when the name signed at the bottom of the uppermost one caught his eye.

âOh, Joe, Joe!â he laughed, taking up the paper, âis this thy much-vaunted love of freedom?â Glancing at the
second, he added, âAnd Esquire Hennion! Well, they deserve it not; but Iâll do the pair a harmless service all
the same, merely for old-time days,â he muttered, as he folded up the two broadsides and stuffed them into his
pocket.

While the aide was thus engaged, Washington rode over to inspect the prisoners. Here it was to discover the
squire and Janice, the former having been made a prize of by a more zealous than sagacious militiaman.
Giving directions to march the prisoners at once under guard to Morristown, the commander turned to the girl.

âThou ârt not content to give us thy good wishes, Miss Janice,â he said, motioning to the guard to let the two
go free, âbut addest the aid of thy presence as well.â

âAnd were within an ace of getting shot thereby,â complained the squire, still not entirely over his fright.
âEgad, general, we were right between the shooting at one minute, and heard the bullets shrieking all about
us.â

âBut so was his Excellency, dadda,â protested Janice. âOh, General Washington,â she added, âwhen you rode
up so close to the British, and I saw them level their guns, I was like to have fell off my horse with fear for
you.â

âAy,â remarked the squire, for once unprecedentedly diplomatic. âThe lass stood her own peril as steadily as
ever I did, but she turned white as a feather when the infantry fired at you, and, woman-like, burst into tears
the moment the smoke had lifted enough to show you still unhurt.â

âAnd now has tears in her eyes because I was not shot, I suppose,â Washington responded, with a smiling
glance at the maiden.

âNo, your Excellency,â denied the girl, in turn smiling through the tears. âBut dadda is quite wrong: ât was
not anxiety for you that made me weep, but fear that they might have killed Blueskin!â

Washington laughed at the girlâs quip. âIt seems my vanity is so great that I am doomed ever to mistake the
source of your interest. Come,â he added, âthe last time we met I was beholden to you for a breakfast. Let me
repay the kindness by giving you a meal. One of my family reports that the lunch of the officersâ mess of the
Fortieth was just on the table at the provostâs house when our movements gave them other occupation. âT is
fair plunder, and I bid you to share in it.â

CHAPTER XXXV THE âSTOLE AWAYâ 164

During the repast the father and daughter told how they had come to be mixed in the conflict, and the squire
grumbled over the prospect before him.

âIâve no place to go but Greenwood, and now they threat to take my lass to New York over this harebrain
scrape sheâs got us all into.â

ââT would be gross ingratitude,â asserted Washington, âif we let Miss Meredith suffer for her service to us,
and ât is a simple matter to save her. Get me pen, ink, and a blank parole, Baylor.â

The paper brought, Washington filled in a few words in his flowing script, and then placed it before the girl.
âSign here,â he told her, and when it was done he took back the document. âYou are now a prisoner of war,
released on parole, Miss Janice,â he explained, âand pledged not to go more than ten miles from Greenwood
without first applying to me for permission. Furthermore, upon due notice, you are again to render yourself
my captive.â

Janice, with a shy glance, which had yet the touch of impertinence that was ingrain in her, replied, âI was that
the first time I met your Excellency, and have been so ever since.â

An end was put to the almost finished meal at this point by the clatter of hoots, followed by the hurried
entrance of Brereton. âGeneral St. Clair sends word, sir, that a column of British is advanced as far as Stony
Brook, and isââ There the aide caught sight of Janice, and stopped speaking in his surprise.

âGo on, sir!â ordered Washington, sternly.

âAnd is driving in our skirmishes. He has report that ât is the first of the whole English army, which is
pressing on by forced marches.â

ââT is time, then, that we were on the wing,â asserted the general, rising. âColonel Webb, tell General St.
Clair to hold the enemy in check as long as he can. You, Baylor, direct Colonel Forrest to plant his guns on
the green, to cover the rearguard. General Greene, let the army file off on the road to Somerset Court-house.â

The orders given, he turned to make his farewell to Janice. âThis time Lord Cornwallis did not cheat us of our
meal, though he prevents our lingering long at table. You should know best, sir,â he said to the esquire, âwhat
course to pursue, but I advise you to start for Greenwood without delay, for there will be some skirmishing
through the town, and the British commander is not likely to be in the best of moods.â

âWeâll be off at once,â assented Mr. Meredith.

âThen Miss Janice will allow me the office of mounting her,â solicited the general, as they all went to the
door. âIs not that Colonel Breretonâs mare?â he continued, as the orderly brought up the horses.

âYes, your Excellency,â stammered Janice. ââT was by a strange chanceââ

âNo doubt, no doubtââ interrupted Washington, smiling.

âBelike he wants her back,â intimated the squire, glancing anxiously at the aide, who stood, with folded arms,
watching the scene.

âI think heâll not grudge the loan, in consideration of the rider,â insinuated Washington. âThe more that
Congress has just voted him a sword and horse for his conduct at Trenton. How is it, Brereton?â

CHAPTER XXXV THE âSTOLE AWAYâ 165

With a shrug of the shoulders Jack muttered, ââT is no time to demand her back, got though she was by a
trick,â and walked away.

âYou have not shown him the paper?â questioned Janice, as she settled herself in the saddle.

âNo, my child,â replied Washington. âHe returned from Baltimore only last evening, and there has been no
time since. But rest easy, he shall see it. Keep good wishes for us, and fare thee well.â

Two hours later the British marched into Princeton. But the Continental forces had made good their retreat,
and all that was left to their pursuers was to march on wearily to Brunswick to save the broken regiments and
the magazines that had been lost in spite of them, had Washington possessed but a few fresh troops. The
English general had been out-manoeuvred, his best brigade cut to pieces, and the army he had thought to
annihilate was safe among the hills of New Jersey.

âConfound the fox!â stormed Cornwallis. âCan I never come up with him?â

âHe âs got safe off twice, my lord; the third time is proverbial, and the odds must turn,â urged Erskine.

âPray Heaven that some day we may catch him in a cul-de-sac from which there can be no retreat.â
II.
MeredithVOLUME
Janice
[Illustration: George Washington (In color)]

CHAPTER XXXV THE âSTOLE AWAYâ 166

JANICE MEREDITH

A TALE OF THE REVOLUTION

VOLUME II

BETWIXT MILLSTONES
The reunion of the Merediths was so joyful a one that little thought was taken of the course of public events.
Nor were they now in a position easily to learn of them. Philemon and his troop had hastened to rejoin at the
first news of the British reverses, the remaining farm servants had one by one taken advantage of the anarchy
of the last eight months secretly to desert, or boldly enlist, the squireâs gout prevented his going abroad, and
the quiet was too great a boon to both Mrs. Meredith and Janice to make them wish for anything but its
continuance.

If there was peace at Greenwood, it was more than could be said for the rest of the land. The Continental
success at Princeton, small though it was in degree, worked as a leaven, and excited a ferment throughout the
State. Every Whig whom the British successes had for a moment made faint-hearted, every farmer whose
crops or stock had been seized, every householder on whom troops had been quartered, even Joe Bagby and
the Invincibles took guns from their hiding-places and, forming themselves into parties, joined Washingtonâs
army in the Jersey hills about Morristown, or, acting on their own account, boldly engaged the British
detachments and stragglers wherever they were encountered. Withdrawn as the Merediths might be, the
principal achievements were too important not to finally reach them, and by infinite filtration they heard of
how the Waldeckers had been attacked at Springfield and put to flight, how the British had abandoned
Hackensack and Newark without waiting for the assaults, and how at Elizabethtown they had been surprised
and captured. Less than a month from the time that the royal army had practically held the Jerseys, it was
reduced to the mere possession of Brunswick, Amboy, and Paulus Hook, and every picket or foraging party
sent out from these points was almost certain of a skirmish.

It was this state of semi-blockade which gave the Merediths their next taste of warâs alarums. Late in
February a company of foot and a half troop of horse, with a few waggons, made their appearance on the river
road, and halted opposite the gate of Greenwood. Painful as was the squireâs foot, this sight was sufficient to
make him bear the agony of putting it to the ground, and bring him limping to the door.

âHow now! For what are ye come?â he shouted at a detachment which was already filing through the gate.

At the call, two officers who had been seemingly engaged in a discussion, rode toward the porch, and the
moment they were within speaking distance one of them began an explanation.

âI was just a-tellinâ Captain Plunkett that weâd done a mighty bad stroke this morninâ, but that this âud be a
worse one, forââ

âWhy, it âs Phil!â cheerfully exclaimed Mr. Meredith. âWelcome, lad, and all the more that I feared ât was
another call the thieving Whigs were about to pay my cribs and barn. Where have ye been, lad? But, rather, in
with ye and your friend,â he said, interrupting his own question, as the other officer approached, âand tell your
errand over a bottle where thereâs more warmth.â

âItâs such a mighty sorry errand, squire,â replied Philemon, with evident reluctance, and reddening, âthat it
wonât take many words ter tell. We was sent out yestereâen toward Somerset Court-house, a-foraginâ, and

JANICE MEREDITH 167

this morninâ as we was returninâ, we was set upon by the rebels.â

âDevil burn it!â muttered the captain, âwhat do you call such mode of warfare? At Millstone Ford, where they
attacked us, they scattered like sheep as we deployed for a charge. But the moment we were on the march in
column, ping, ping, ping from every bit of cover, front, flank, and rear, and each bullet with a billet at that, no
matter what the distance. Not till we reached Middle Brook did their stinging fire cease."

âAnd âstead of bringinâ into Brunswick forty carts of food and forage, and a swipe of cattle,â groaned
Philemon, âwe has only four waggon-loads of wounded ter show for our raid.â

âWith the post nigh to short commons,â went on Plunkett. âTherefore, Mr. Meredith, we are put to the
necessity of taking a look at your barn and granaries.

âWhat!â roared the squire, incredulously, yet with a wrath in his voice that went far to show that conviction
rather than disbelief was his true state of mind. ââT is impossible that British regulars will thieve like the
rebels.â

Both the officers flushed, and Philemon began a faltering explanation and self-exculpation, but he was cut
short by his superior saying sharply: âTush, sir, such language will not make us deal the more gently with
your cribs; so if you âd save something, mend your speech.â

âI done my best, squire,â groaned Philemon, âter dissuade Captain Plunkett, but General Grantâs orders was
not ter come back without a train.â

âThen at least yeâll have the grace to pay for what ye take? Yeâll be no worse than the rebel, that Iâll lay to.â

âAy, and so we should, could we pay in the same worthless brown paper. In truth, sir, ât was General Howeâs
and the commissaryâs orders that nothing that we seize was to be paid for, so if thou hast a quarrel ât is with
those whom Mr. Hennion says are thy good friends. Here âs a chance, therefore, to exhibit the loyalty which
the lieutenant has been dinging into my ears for the last half-mile.â

âBelza burn the lot of ye!â was the squireâs prompt expression of his loyalty.

Neither protests nor curses served, however, to turn the marauders from their purpose. Once again the
outbuildings and store-rooms of Greenwood were ransacked and swept clear of their goodly plenty, and once
again, as if to deepen the sense of injury, the stable was made to furnish the means with which the robbery
was to be completed.

While the troops were still scattered and occupied in piling the loot upon the sleighs and sledges, a volley of
something more potent than the squireâs oaths and objurgations interrupted them. From behind the garden
hedgerow of box came a discharge of guns, and a dozen of the foraging party, including both the captain and
the lieutenant of foot, fell. A moment of wild confusion followed, some of the British rushing to where the
troopersâ steeds were standing, and, throwing themselves into the saddles, found safety in flight, while the rest
sought shelter in the big barn. Here Lieutenant Hennion succeeded in rallying them into some order, but it was
to find that numbers of the infantry had left their muskets, and that many of the light horse were without their
sabres, both having been laid aside to expedite the work.

Not daring offensive operations with such a force, the young officer, aided by the one subaltern, made the best
disposition possible for defence, trusting to hold the building until the fugitives should return with aid from
Brunswick. Those who had their muskets were stationed at the few windows, while the dragoons with drawn
swords were grouped about the door, ready to resist an attack.

BETWIXT MILLSTONES 168

The Jersey militia had too often experienced the effectiveness of British bayonets and sabres to care to face
them, and so they continued behind the hedge, and coolly reloaded their guns. Yet they, as well as their
opponents, understood that time was fighting against them, and as soon as it became obvious that those in the
barn intended no sortie they assumed the initiative.

The first warning of this to the besieged was another volley, which sent bullets through the windows and the
crack in the door, without doing the slightest injury. At the same moment four men trailing their rifles
appeared from behind the hedge, and, scattering and dodging as they ran, made for the cow yard. Two of the
infantry who guarded the window that over-looked this movement, thrust out their muskets and fired; but
neither of their shots told, for the moment they appeared five flashes came from the hedge, and one of the
defenders, as his hand pressed the trigger, was struck in the forehead by a rifle ball, and, staggering sidewise,
he clutched his comradeâs gun, so that it sent its bullet skyward. Before new men could take their places, the
four runners had leaped the low fence and dashed across the yard to the shelter under the barn.

Knowing that they must be dislodged, the lieutenant commanded that the manure trap should be raised and a
number of the dragoons drop down it; but no sooner had one started to swing himself through the opening
than a gun cracked below, and the man, relaxing his hold, fell lifeless on his face. Another, not pausing to
drop, jumped. He landed in a heap, but was on his feet in a flash, only to fall backward with a bullet through
his lung. The rest hung back, unwilling to face such certain death, though their officers struck them with the
flat of their swords.

Another moment developed the object of the attack, for through the trap-door suddenly shone a red light, and
with it came the sound of crackling faggots. A cry of terror broke from the British, and there was a wild rush
for the door, which many hands joined in throwing open. As it rolled back a dozen guns spoke, and the seven
exposed men fell in a confused heap at the opening,âa lesson sharp enough to turn the rest to right about.

All pretence of discipline disappeared at once, the men ceasing to pay the slightest heed to their officers; and
one, panic-stricken with fear, threw off his coat and, fairly tearing his shirt from his back, tied it to his bayonet
and waved it through the door. Hennion, with an oath, sprang forwards, caught the gun and wrenched it out of
the fellowâs hands, at the same moment stretching him flat with a blow in the neck; but as he did so one of the
troopers behind him cut the officer down with his sabre. The subaltern of foot who rushed to help his superior
was caught and held by two of the men, and the officers thus disposed of, the white flag was once more held
through the doorway.

At the very instant that this was accomplished, the fire below found some crevice in the flooring under the
hay, and in a trice the mow burst into spitting and crackling flame. With the holder of the white flag at their
head, the men dashed through the doorway, those with arms tossing them away, and most of them throwing
themselves flat upon the ground, with the double purpose of signalling their surrender and of escaping the
bullets that might greet their exit.

In a moment they were the centre of a hundred men, who, but for their guns, might have been taken for a lot
of farmers and field hands. One alone wore a military hat with a cockade, and it was he who demanded in a
voice of self-importance:â

âHave you surrendered, and where is your commanding officer?â

âYes,â shouted a dozen of the British, while the three men still holding the subaltern dragged him forward,
without releasing their hold on his arms.

âGive up your sword, then,â demanded the wearer of the cockade.

BETWIXT MILLSTONES 169

âIâll die first!â protested the young fellow,âa lad of not over seventeen at most,âstill struggling with his
soldiers. âYouâll not see an officer coerced by his own men, sir,â he sobbed, as another of the soldiers caught
him by the wrist and twisted his sword from his hand.

âA mighty good lesson it is for your stinking British pride,â was the retort of the militia officer, as he accepted
the sword. âI guess you âre the kind of man weâve been looking for to make an example of. Weâll teach you
what murdering our generals and plundering our houses come toâ eh, men?â

âHooray fer Joe Bagby!â shouted one of the conquerors.

âSome of you tie the prisoners, except him, two and two, and start them down the road at double quick,â
ordered Captain Bagby. âCollect all the guns and sabres and throw them on the sledges. Look alive there, for
weâve no time to lose. Well, squire, what do you want?â he demanded, as he turned and found the latterâs
hand on his sleeve.

âIâve to thank ye for arriving in the nick oâ time to save me from being plundered,â said Mr. Meredith,
speaking as if he were taking a dose of medicine. âNow canât ye set to and save my outbuildings from taking
fire?â

âHarkee, squire, replied Joe, dropping his voice to a confidential pitch, while at the same time leading his
interlocutor aside out of hearing. âThe sledges and what they hold is our prize, captivated from the British in a
fair fight, yet weâll get around that if youâll say the right word.â

âAnd what âs that?â queried the squire.

âYou know as well as I what ât is. The sledges are yours, and weâll do our prettiest to prevent the stables and
cribs from catching, if youâll but say what I want said as to Miss Janice.â

âIâd see her in her grave first.â

âSome of you fellows start those sleighs and sledges up the road!â shouted Bagby. âNow then, have you got
that officer ready?â

âHe ainât ready, but we is, cap,â answered one of the little group about the prisoner.

âUp with him, then!â ordered Bagby. âSee-saw âs the word: down goes Mercer, up goes a bloody-back.â

At the command, half a dozen men pulled on a rope which had been passed over the bough of a tree, and the
young subaltern was swung clear of the ground. He struggled so fiercely for a moment that the cords which
bound his wrists parted and he was able to clutch the rope above his head in a desperate attempt to save
himself. It was useless, for instantly two rifles were levelled and two bullets sent through him; his hands
relaxing, he hung limply, save for a slight muscular quiver.

âIf your friends, the British, come back, you can tell them that âs only the beginning,â Bagby told the squire.
âAnd look out for yourself, or it âs what will come to you. Now then, fellows, fall in,â he called. âThe line of
retreat is to Somerset Court-house, and you are to guard the prisoners and the provisions if you can, but scatter
if attacked in force. March!â

The motley company, without pretence of order, set off on their long, weary night tramp through the snow.
Behind them the flame of the barn, now towering sixty feet in the air, made the whole scene bright with
colour, save where the swinging body of the lad threw a shifting shadow across a stretch of untrampled snow.

BETWIXT MILLSTONES 170

XXXVII
BLUES AND REDS
As the squire still stood gloomily staring, now at the departing Whigs, now at the blazing barn, and now at his
stable and other buildings, Clarion, who had taken a great interest in the last hourâs doings, suddenly pricked
up his ears and then ran forward to a snow-drift within a few yards of the burning building. Here he halted and
gave vent to a series of loud yelps. Limping forward, the squire heard his name called in a faint voice, and the
next instant discovered Philemon hidden in the snow.

âIâm bad hurt, squire,â he groaned; âbut I made out to crawl from the barn.â

âGadsbodikins!â exclaimed Mr. Meredith. âWhy, Phil, I eâen forgot ye for the moment. Here âs a pass,
indeed. And none but women and a one-legged man to help ye, now ye re found.â

It took the whole household to carry Philemon indoors, and as it was impossible, in the squireâs legless and
horseless condition, to send for aid, Mrs. Meredith became the surgeon. The wound proved to be a shoulder
cut, serious only from the loss of blood it had entailed, and after it was washed and bandaged the patient was
put to bed. Daylight had come by the time this had been accomplished, and the squire was a little cheered to
find that the snow on the roofs of his farm buildings had prevented the sparks of the barn from igniting them.

[Illustration: âThereâs no safety for thee!â]

Twenty-four hours elapsed before help came to the household, and then it was in the form of Harcourtâs
dragoons. From Tarleton it was learned that the fugitives, on their arrival at Brunswick, asserted that
Washingtonâs whole army had attacked them, and was in full advance upon the post,â news which had kept
the whole force under arms for hours, and prevented any attempt to come to the assistance of the detachment.
When the major learned that eighty picked troops had been killed or captured by a hundred raw militia, his
language was more picturesque than quotable. There was nothing to be done, however; and after they had
vowed retaliation for the subaltern, buried the dead, and the surgeon had looked at Philâs wound and approved
of Mrs. Meredithâs treatment, the squadron rode back to Brunswick.

This and other like experiences served to teach the English that it was not safe to send out foraging parties,
and for a time active warfare practically ceased. The Continental forces, reduced at times to less than a
thousand men, were not strong enough to attack the enemyâs posts, and the British, however much they might
grumble over a fare of salt food, preferred it to fresher victuals when too highly seasoned with rifle bullets.

The Merediths were somewhat better provided, Sukeyâs store-rooms proving to have many an unransacked
cupboard, while the farmers in the vicinity, however bare they had apparently been stripped, were able, when
money was offered, to supply poultry, eggs, milk, and many other comforts, which through lack of stock and
labour Greenwood could no longer furnish.

His wound was therefore far from an ill to the lieutenant of horse, since it not merely relieved him from the
stigma of the surrender, but saved him from the privation of the poor food and cramped quarters his fellow
troopers were enduring at Brunswick. Nor did he count as the least advantage the tendance that Janice, half by
volition and half by compulsion, gave him. When at last he was able to come downstairs, the days were none
too long as he sat and watched her nimble fingers sew, or embroider, or work at some other of her tasks.

One drawback there was to this joy. In spite of strict orders against straggling, many a red-coated officer
risked punishment for disobedience, and capture by the enemy, by sneaking through the pickets and spending
long hours at Greenwood. Though Philâs service had given him much more tongue and assurance than of

XXXVII BLUES AND REDS 171

yore, he was still unable to cope with them; and, conscious that he cut but a poor figure to the girl when they
were present, he was at times jealous and quarrelsome.

Twice he laid his anxieties and desires before the squire and begged for an immediate wedding, but that
worthy was by no means as ready as once he had been; for while convinced of the eventual success of the
British, he foresaw unsettled times in the immediate future, and knew that the marriage of his girl to an officer
of the English army was a serious if not decisive step. Yet delay was all he wished, being too honest a man to
even think of breaking faith with the young fellow; and finally one evening, when he had become genial over
a due, or rather undue, amount of Madeira and punch, he was won over by Philemonâs earnest persuasions,
and declared that the wedding should take place before the British broke up their winter quarters and marched
to Philadelphia.

The next morning the squire had no remembrance of his eveningâs pledge, but he did not seek to cry off from
it when reminded by Philemon. Mrs. Meredith was called into conclave, and then Janice was summoned and
told of the edict.

âAnd now, lass, thou hast got thyself and us into more than one scrape,â ended the father, âso come and give
thy dad a kiss to show that thou ârt cured of thy wrong-headedness and will do as thy mother and I wish.â

Without a word Janice went to her father and kissed him; then she flung her arms about his neck, buried her
head in his shoulder, and burst into tears.

The squire had been quite prepared for the conduct of two years previous and had steeled himself to enforce
obedience, but this contrary behaviour took him very much aback.

âWhy, Jan,â he expostulated, âthis is no way to carry on when a likely young officer bespeaks ye in marriage.
Many âs the maid would give her left hand toââ

âBut I donât love him,â sobbed the girl.

âAnd who asked if thou didst, miss?â inquired her mother, who by dint of nursing Phil had become his strong
partisan. âDost mean to put thy silly whims above thy parentsâ judgments?â

âBut you would nât do as your father wished, and married dadda,â moaned Janice.

"A giddy, perverse child I was,â retorted Mrs. Meredith; âand another art thou, to fling the misbehaviour in
thy motherâs face.â

âNay, nay, Pattyââ began the squire; but whether he was stepping forward in defence of his wife or his
daughter he was not permitted to say, for Mrs. Meredith continued:â

âWeâll set the wedding for next Thursday, if that suits thee, Philemon?â

âYou canât name a day too soon for me, marm,â assented Philemon, eagerly; âand as I just hearn the sound of
hoofs outside, ât is likely some officers has arrived, and Iâll speak ter them so âs ter get word ter the chaplain,
and ter my regiment. You need nât be afraid, Miss Janice, that ât wonât be done in high style. Like as not,
General Grant will put the whole post under arms.â In truth, the lover was not at his ease, and was glad
enough for an excuse which took him from the room. Nor was he less eager to announce his success to his
comrades, hoping it would put an end to their attentions to his bride.

âThen yeâll do as I bid ye, Jan?â questioned her father.

XXXVII BLUES AND REDS 172

âYes, dadda,â Janice assented dutifully, while striving to stifle her sobs. âIâIâve been aâaâwicked creature, I
know, and now Iâll do as you and mommy tell me.â

If Philemon had been made uneasy by the girlâs tears, her manner during the balance of the day did not tend
to make him happier. Her sudden gravity and silence were so marked that his fellow-officers who had come to
supper, and who did not know the true situation, rallied them both on Miss Meredithâs loss of spirits.

âIâ faith,â declared Sir Frederick Mobray, moved perhaps by twinges of the little green monster, âbut for the
lieutenantâs word Iâd take oath ât was a funeral we were to attend, and issue orders for the casing of colours
and muffling of drums. In the name of good humour, Mr. Meredith, have in the spirits, and Iâll brew a punch
that shall liquidate the gloom.â

After one glass of the steaming drink, the ladies, as was the custom, rose to leave the room. At the door Janice
was intercepted by Peg, with word that Sukey wished to advise with her anent some matter, so the maid did
not follow her mother, but turned and entered the kitchen.

The cook was not in view; but as the girl realised the fact, a cloaked man suddenly stepped from behind the
chimney breast, and before the scream that rose to Janiceâs lips could escape, a firm hand was laid on them.
Yet, even in the moment of surprise, the girl was conscious that, press as the fingers might, there was still an
element of caress in their touch.

âI seem doomed to fright you, Miss Meredith,â said Brereton, âbut, indeed, ât is not intentional. Twice in the
last week Iâve tried to gain speech of you without success, and so to-night have taken desperate means.â He
took his hand from her mouth. âThis time I know myself safe in your hands. Ah, Miss Janice, wilt not forgive
me the suspicion? for not one easy hour have I had since I knew how I had wronged you. I was sent to
eastward with despatches to the New England governors, or nothing would have kept me from earlier seeking
you to crave a pardon.â

âYet thou wouldst not believe me, sir, when I sent thee word.â

âSent me word, when?â

âBy Lord Clowes.â

âClowes?â

âYes. The morning after you were captivated.â

âNot one word did he speak to me from the moment I was trapped untilâuntil you, like a good angel, as now I
know, came to my rescue.â He bowed his head and pressed his lips upon the palm of her hand.

The girl was beginning an explanation when a loud laugh from the dining-room recalled to her the danger.
âYou must not stay,â she protested, as she caught away her hand, which the aide had continued holding.
âThere are fiveââ

âI know it,â interrupted Jack; âand if you âd not come to me, Iâd have burst in on them rather than have my
third ride futile.â

âOh, go; please go!â begged the girl, his reckless manner adding yet more to her alarm.

âSay that you forgive me,â pleaded the officer, catching her hands.

XXXVII BLUES AND REDS 173

âYes, yes, anything; only go!â besought Janice, as a second laugh from the dining-room warned her anew of
the peril.

Jack stooped and kissed each hand in turn, but even as he did so one of the officers in the next room bawled:â

âHere âs a toast to Leftenant Hennion and his bride,â hip, hip, hip, bumpers!â

Janice felt herself caught by both shoulders, with all the tenderness gone from the touch.

âWhat does that mean?â the aide demanded, his face very close to her own.

The girl, with bowed head, partly in shame, and partly to escape the blazing eyes which fairly burned her own,
replied: âI am to marry Mr. Hennion next Thursday.â

âWillingly?â burst from her questioner, as if the word were shot from a bomb.

âNo.â

âThen youâll do nothing of the kind,â denied Brereton, with a sudden gaiety of voice. âMy horse is hid in the
woods by the river; but say the word, and you shall be under Lady Washingtonâs protection at Morristown
before daylight.â

âAnd what then?â questioned the girl.

âThen? Why, a marriage with me the moment youâll give me ay.â

âBut I care no more for you than I do for Mr. Hennion; and evenââ

âBut Iâll make you care for me,â interrupted Jack, ardently.

âAnd even if I did,â concluded Janice, âyou yourself helped to teach me what the world thinks of
elopements.â

âAh, donât letâdonât denyââ

âNo, once for all; and release me, sir, I beg.â

âNot till you swear to me that this accursed wedding is not to take place till Thursday.â

âOf course not.â

âAnd where is it to be?â

âAt the church in Brunswick.â

âAnd is the looby with his regiment or staying here?â

âHere.â

Brereton laughed gaily, and more loudly than was prudent. âA bet and a marvel,â he bantered: âa barley-corn
to Miss Janice Meredith, that the sweetest, most bewitching creature in the world lacks a groom on her

XXXVII BLUES AND REDS 174

wedding day! I must not tarry, for ât is thirty miles to Morristown, and three days is none too much time for
what I would do. Farewell,â Jack ended, once more catching her hands and kissing them. He hurriedly crossed
the room, but as he laid hold of the latch he as suddenly turned and strode back to the maid. âHas he ever
kissed you?â he demanded, with a savage scowl on his face.

âNever!â impulsively cried the girl, while the colour flooded into her cheeks.

âBless him for a cold-blooded icicle!â joyfully exclaimed the officer; and before Janice could realise his
intention she was caught in his arms and fervently kissed. The next moment a door slammed, and he was
gone, leaving the girl leaning for very want of breath against the chimney side, with redder cheeks than ever.

The colour still lingered the next morning to such an extent that it was commented upon by both her parents,
who found in it proof that she was now reconciled to their wishes. Had they been closer observers, they would
have noticed that several times in the course of the day it waxed or waned without apparent reason, that their
daughter was singularly restless, and that any sound out of doors caused her to start and listen. Not even the
getting out and trying on of her wedding gown seemed to interest her. Yet nothing occurred to break the usual
monotony of the life.

Her state of nervous expectancy on the second day was shown when the inevitable contingent of English
officers arrived a little before dinner; for as they appeared without previous warning in the parlour door,
Janice gave a scream, which startled Philemon, who was relying upon but two legs of his chair, into a pitch
over backward, and brought the squireâs gouty foot to the floor with a bump and a wail of pain.

âBody oâ me!â ejaculated one of the new-corners. âDost take us for Satan himself, that ye greet us so?â

âTush, man!â corrected Mobray. âMiss Meredith could not see under our cloaks, and so, no doubt, thought us
rebels. Who wouldnât scream at the prospect of an attack of the Continental blue devilsâeh, Miss Janice?â

âBetter the blue devils,â retorted Janice, âthan a scarlet fever.â

âHah, hah!â laughed a fellow-officer. ââT was you got us into that, Sir Frederick. Lieutenant Hennion, your
first task after to-morrowâs ceremony is plain and clear.

âWould that I had the suppression of this rebellion!â groaned the baronet, ââstead of one which fights us with
direst cold and hunger, to say nothing of the scurvy and the putrid fever.â

For the next few hours cold and hunger and disease were not in evidence, however; and it took little
persuasion from the squire, who dearly loved jovial company, to induce the visitors to stay on to tea, and then
to supper.

While they were enjoying the latter, the interruption Janice had expected came at last. In the midst of the
cheer, the hall door was swung back so quietly that no one observed it, and only when he who opened it spoke
did those at table realise the new arrival. Then the sight of the blue uniform with buff facings brought every
officer to his feet and set them glancing cornerward, to where their side arms were stood.

âI grieve to intrude upon so mirthful a company,â apologised the new arrival, bowing. âBut knowing of the
unstinted hospitality of Greenwood, I made bold, Mrs. Meredith, to tell a friend that we could scarce fail of a
welcome.â Brereton turned to say, âThis way, Harry, after thouâst disposed thy cloak and hat,â and entered
the room.

XXXVII BLUES AND REDS 175

âOdds my life!â burst out the baronet, as the second interloper, garbed in Continental dragoon uniform,
entered and bowed respectfully to the company. âWhat âs to pay here?â

âBut nay,â went on Brereton, âI see your table is already filled, so weâll not inconvenience you by our
intrusion. Perhaps, however, Miss Janice will fill us each a glass from you bowl of punch. âT is a long ride to
Morristown, and a stirrup cup will not be amiss. Yet stay again. Let me first puff off my friend to you. Ladies
and gentleman, Captain Henry Lee, better known as Light Horse Harry.â

âMay I perish, but this impudence passes belief!â gasped one of the officers. âDost think thou ârt not
prisoners?â

âHo, Jack! I told thee thy harebrainedness and love of adventure would get us into the suds yet,â spoke up
Lee. âThen the ninety light horse whom we left surrounding the house are thy troops?â he questioned
laughingly, of the four officers.

âDevil pick your bones, the two of you!â swore Mobray. âWast not enough that we should be so
confoundedly gapped, but you must come with the bowl but half emptied. Hast thou no bowels for gentlemen
and fellow-officers?â

âFooh!â quizzed Brereton. âPick up the bowl and down with it at a gulp, man. Never let it be said that an
officer of the Welsh Fusileers made bones of a half-fullââ There the speaker caught himself short, and
suddenly turned his back on the table.

âWhom have we here?â demanded the baronet. âBy Heavens, Charlie, whoâd thinkâ Does Sir William know
ofâ?â

ââS death!â cried Jack, facing about, and meeting the questioner eye to eye. âCanst not hold thy tongue,
man?â Then he went on less excitedly: âI am Leftenant-Colonel John Brereton, aide-de-camp to his
Excellency General Washington.â

For a moment Sir Frederick stood speechless, then he held out his hand, saying: âAnd a good fellow, I doubt
not, despite a bad trade. Fair lady,â he continued after the handshake, âsince we are doomed for the moment to
be captives of some one other than thee, help to cheer us in the exchange by filling us each a parting glass.
Come, Charlie, canst give us one of thy old-time toasts?â

Brereton laughed, as he took a glass from the girl. ââT is hardly possible, with ladies present, to fit thy taste,
Fred. However, here goes: Honour, fame, love, and wealth may desert us, but thirst is eternal.â

âEven in captivity, thank a kind Providence,â ejaculated one of the officers, as he set down his drained
tumbler.

âNow, gentlemen, boots and saddles, anâ it please you,â suggested Lee, politely.

âTheeâll not force a wounded man to take such exposure," protested Mrs. Meredith. âLieutenant Hennionââ

Brereton carried on the speech: âCan drink punch and study divinity. Iâll warrant heâs not so near to deathâs
door but he can bear one-half the ride of our poor starved troopers and beasts.â

âFarewell, Miss Janice,â groaned the baronet; âât was thy beauty baited this trap.â

Jack lingered a moment after Lee and the prisoners had passed into the hallway.

XXXVII BLUES AND REDS 176

âCan I have a momentâs word with you apart, Miss Meredith?â he asked.

âMost certainly not,â spoke up the squire, recovering from the dumbness into which the rapid occurrences of
the last three minutes had reduced him. âIf ye have aught to say to my lass, out with it here.â

ââT isâât is just a word of farewell.â

âI like not thy farewells,â answered the girl, colouring.

âFor once we agree, Miss Janice,â replied the officer, boldly; âand did it rest with me, there should never be
another.â He bowed, and went to the door. âMr. Meredith,â he said, âIâve stolen a husband from your
daughter. âT is a debt I am ready to pay on demand.â

XXXVIII
BLACK AND WHITE
How much the squire would have grieved over the capture of his almost son-in-law was never known, for
events gave him no opportunity. Spring was now come, and with it the breaking up of winter quarters. The
moment the roads were passable, the garrison of Brunswick, under the command of Cornwallis, marched up
the Raritan to Middle Brook, driving back into the Jersey hills a detachment of the Continental army. In turn
Washingtonâs whole force was moved to the support of his advance, but the British had fallen back once more
to their old position. Early in June, Howe himself arrived at Brunswick, bringing with him heavy
reinforcements, and first threatened a movement toward the Delaware, hoping to draw Washington from his
position; but the latter, surmising that his opponent would never dare to jeopardise his communications, was
not to be deceived. Disappointed in this, the British faced about quickly, and tried to surprise the Americans
by a quick march upon their encampment, only to find them posted along a strong piece of ground, fully
prepared for a conflict. Although the British outnumbered the Continentals almost twice over, the deadly
shooting of the latter had been so often experienced that Howe dared not assault their position, and after a few
days of futile waiting, his army once more fell back on Brunswick, crossed the Raritan to Amboy, and then
was ferried across to Staten Island. Washington, by holding his force in a menacing position, without either
marching or attacking, had saved not merely his troops, but Philadelphia as well; and Howe learned that if the
capital was to be captured, it could not be by the direct march of his command across the Jerseys, but must be
by the far slower way of conveying it by ships to the southward.

Before the campaign opened, Mr. Meredith had been loud and frequent in complaints over his lack of stock
and labour with which to cultivate his farm. Had he been better situated, however, it is probable that his
groans would have been multiplied fivefold, for he would have seen whatever he did rendered useless by this
march and counter-march of belligerents. Thrice the tide of war rolled over Greenwood; and though there was
not so much as a skirmish within hearing of the homestead, the effects were almost as serious to him and to
his tenantry. When the British finally evacuated the Jerseys, scarce a fence was to be found standing in
Middlesex County, having in the two monthsâ manoeuvring been taken for camp-fires, and the frames of
many an outbuilding had been used for similar purposes.

The depleted larders of Greenwood, together with the small prospect of replenishing them from his own farm,
drove the squire to the necessity of pressing his tenants for the half. yearly rentals. Whatever his needs, the
attempt to collect them was thoroughly unwise; Mr. Meredith, as a fact, being in better fortune than many of
his tenants, for they had seen their young crops ridden over, or used as pasture, by the cavalry of both sides,
and were therefore not merely without means of paying rent, but were faced by actual want for their own
families. The surliness or threats with which the squireâs demands were met should have proven to him their
impolicy; but if to the simple-minded landlord a debt was a debt and only a debt, he was quickly to learn that

XXXVIII BLACK AND WHITE 177

there are various ways of payment. No sooner had the Continental army followed Howe across the Raritan,
and thus left the country-side to the government, or lack of government, of its own people, than the tenants
united in a movement designed to secure what might legally be termed a stay of proceedings, and which
possessed the unlegal advantage of being at once speedy and effective.

One night in July the deep sleep of the master of Greenwood was interrupted by a heavy hand being laid on
his shoulder, and ere he could blink himself into effective eyesight, he was none too politely informed by the
spokesman of four masked men who had intruded into his conjugal chamber, that he was wanted below.
While still dazed, the squire was pulled, rather than helped, out of bed, and Mrs. Meredith, who tried to help
him resist, was knocked senseless on the floor. Down the stairs and out of the house he was dragged, his
progress being encouraged by such cheering remarks as, âWeâll teach you what Toryism comes ter.â âWhere
âs them tools of old George youâve been a-feeding, now?â âWant your rents, do you? Well, pay dayâs come.â

On the lawn were a number of men similarly masked, grouped about a fire over which was already suspended
the tell-tale pot. To this the squire was carried, his night-shirt roughly torn from his back; and while two held
him, a coating of the hot tar was generously applied with a broom, amid screams of pain from the unfortunate,
echoed in no minor key by Janice and the slave servants, all of whom had been wakened by the hubbub.
Meantime, one of the law-breakers had returned to the house, and now reappeared with Mrs. Meredithâs best
feather-bed, which was hastily slashed open with knives, and the squire ignominiously rolled in the feathers,
transforming that worthy at once to an appearance akin to an ill-plucked fowl of mammoth proportions.

Although, as already noted, the fences had disappeared from the face of the land, with the same timeliness
which had been shown in the production of the mattress, a rail was now introduced upon the scene, and the
miserable object having been hoisted thereon, four men lifted it to their shoulders. A slight delay ensued while
the squireâs ankles were tied together, and then, with the warning to him that, âIf yer donât sit right and hold
tight, yeâll enjoy yer ride with yer head down and yer toes up,â the men started off at a trot down the road.
Sharing the burden by turns, the squire was carried to Brunswick, where, daylight having come, he was borne
triumphantly twice round the green, amid hoots and yells from a steadily growing procession, and then was
finally ferried across the river and dumped on the opposite bank with the warning from the spokesman that
worse would come to him if he so much as dared show his face again within the county.

Lack of apparel and an endeavour to revive Mrs. Meredith had kept Janice within doors during the actual
tarring and feathering; but so soon as the persecutors set off for Brunswick, the girl left her now conscious
though still dizzy mother, hastily dressed, and started in pursuit, the alarm for her father quite overcoming her
dread of the masked rioters. Try her best, they had too long a start to be overtaken, and when she reached the
village, it was to learn from a woman to whom she appealed for information what Mr. Meredithâs fate had
been. Still suffering the keenest anxiety, the girl went to the ferrymanâs house, and begged to be rowed across
the river, but he shook his head.

âCapâ Bagby âs assoomed command, ontil we gits resottled, anâ his orders wuz thet no one wuz ter be ferried
onless they hez a pass; so, ef yer set on followinâ yer dad, it âs him yer must see. I guess he ainât far from the
tavern.â

This proved a correct inference, for Joe, glass in hand, was sitting on a bench near the doorway, watching and
quizzing the publican as that weather-cock laboured to unscrew the rings which suspended his sign in the air.

âWho âs name are you going to paint in this time, Si?â he questioned, as the girl came within hearing.

The tavern-keeper, having freed the sign-board from the support, descended with it. âThis âere tavernâs got
tew git along without no sign,â he said, as he mopped his brow. âIâm jusâ wore out talkinâ first on one side oâ
my mouth, anâ next on tâ other.â

XXXVIII BLACK AND WHITE 178

âYou ainât tired, I guess, of lining first one pocket and then the other?â surmised Bagby.

ââT ainât fer yer tew throw that in my teeth,â retorted the publican. âIt âs little money oâ yours has got intew
my pocket, Joe, often as yer treat yerself anâ the rest.â

Janice went up to the captain. âMr. Bagby, I want to go across the river to my father, andââ so far she spoke
steadily, her head held proudly erect; but then, worn out with the anxiety, the fatigue, and the heat, her
self-control suddenly deserted her, and she collapsed on the bench and began to sob.

âNow, miss,â expostulated Bagby, âthere is nât any call to take on so.â He took the girlâs hand in his own.
âHere, take some of my swizzle. âT will set you right up.â

Before the words had passed his lips, Janice had jerked her hand away and was on her feet. âDonât you dare
touch me,â she said, her eyes flashing.

âI was only trying to comfort you,â asserted Joe, while the tavern loungers gave vent to various degrees of
laughter.

âThen let me go to my father.â

âCanât for a moment,â answered Bagby, angrily. âHe âs shown himself inimical to his country, and we must
nât on no account allow communications with the enemy. That âs the rule as laid down in the general orders,
and in a Congress resolution.â

Bagby's voice, quite as much as his words, told the girl that argument was useless, and without further parley
she walked away. She had not gone ten paces when the publican overtook her and asked:â

âSay, miss, where be yer a-goinâ?â

âHome,â answered Janice.

âThen come yer back anâ rest a bit in the settinâ-room, anâ Iâll have my boy hitch up anâ take yer thar. âT is a
mortal warm day, anâ I calkerlate yerâve walked your stent.â He put his hand kindly on her arm, and the girl
obediently turned about and entered the tavern.

âYou are very kind,â she said huskily.

âThatâs all right,â he replied. âThe squire âs done me a turn now anâ agin, anâ then quality âs quality, though
ât ainât fer the moment havinâ its way.â

While she awaited the harnessing, Bagby came into the room.

âI wanted to say something to you, miss, but I guessed it might fluster you with all the boys about,â he said.
âHas the squire ever told you anything concerning a scheme I proposed to him?â

âNo,â Janice replied, coldly.

âWell, perhaps he would have, if he could have seen forward a little further. Itâs being far-seeing that wins,
miss.â The speaker paused, as if he expected a response, but getting none, he continued, âWould you like to
see him home, and everything quiet and easy again?â

XXXVIII BLACK AND WHITE 179

âOh!â said the girl, starting to her feet. âIâd give anything ifââ

âNow weâre talking,â interjected the captain, quite as eagerly. âOnly say that youâll be Mrs. Bagby, and back
he is before sundown, and Iâll see to it that he is nât troubled no more.â

Janice had stepped forward impulsively, but she shrank back at his words as if he had struck her; then without
a word she walked from the room, went to where the cart was being got ready, and rested a trembling hand
upon it, as if in need of support, while her swift breathing bespoke the intensity of her emotion.

At Greenwood she found her mother still suffering from the fright and the blow too much to allow the girl to
tell her own troubles, or to ask counsel for the future, and the occupation of trying to make the sufferer more
comfortable was in fact a good diversion, exhausted though she was with her fruitless journey.

Before Mrs. Meredith was entirely recovered, or any news of the squire had reached the household, fresh
trouble was upon them. Captain Bagby and two other men drove up the third morning after the incursion, and,
without going through the. form of knocking, came into the parlour.

âYouâll get ready straight off to go to Philadelphia,â the officer announced.

âFor what?â demanded Mrs. Meredith.

âThe Congressâs orders is that any one guilty of seeking to communicate with the enemy is to be put under
arrest, and sent to Philadelphia to be examined.â

âBut we have nât made the slightest attempt, nor so much as thought of it,â protested the matron.

âOh, no!â sneered Joe; âbut, all the same, we intercepted a letter last night written to you by your old Tory
husband, andââ

âOh, prithee,â broke in Janice, without a thought of anything but her father, âwas he well, and where is he?â

âHe was smarting a bit when he wrote,â Bagby remarked with evident enjoyment, âbut heâs got safe to his
friends on Staten Island, so we are nât going to let you stay where you can be sneaking news to the British
through him. Iâll give you just half an hour to pack, and if you are nât done then, off you goes.â

Protests and pleadings were wholly useless, though Joe yielded so far as to suggestively remark in an aside to
the girl, that âthere was one way that you know of, for fixing this thing.â Getting together what they could in
the brief time accorded to them, and with vague directions to Peg and Sukey as to the care of all they were
forced to leave behind, the two women took their places in the waggon, and with only one man to drive them,
set out for their enforced destination.

How little of public welfare and how much of private spite there was in their arrest was proven upon their
arrival the following day in the city of brotherly love. The escort, or captor, first took them to the headquarters
of the general in command of the Continental forces of the town, only to find that he was inspecting the forts
down the Delaware. Leaving the papers, he took his charges to the Indian King Tavern, and after telling them
that they âd hear from the general âlike as not to-morrow,â he departed on his return to Brunswick.

Whether the papers were mislaid by the orderly to whom they had been delivered, or were examined and
deemed too trivial for attention, or, as is most probable, were prevented consideration by greater events, no
word came from headquarters the next day, or for many following ones. Nor could the initiative come from
the captives, for Mrs. Meredith sickened the second day after their arrival, and developed a high fever on the

XXXVIII BLACK AND WHITE 180

third, which the physician who was called in declared to be what was then termed putrid fever,âa disease to
which some three hundred of the English and Hessian soldiery at Brunswick had fallen victims during the
winter. Under his advice, and without hindrance from the innkeeper, who took good care to forget that he was
to âkeep tight hold on the prisoners till the general sends for âem,â she was removed to quieter lodgings on
Chestnut Street.

The nursing, the anxiety, and the isolation all served to make public events of no moment to Janice, though
from the doctor or her loquacious landlady she heard of how Burgoyneâs force, advancing from Canada, had
captured Ticonderoga, and of how Sir William had put the flower of his army on board of transports and gone
to sea, his destination thus becoming a sort of national conundrum affording infinite opportunity for the
wiseacres of the taverns.

Mrs. Meredith, for the sake of the quiet, had been put in the back room, the daughter taking that on the street,
and this arrangement, as it proved, was a fortunate one. Late in August, after a hard all-nightâs tendance of her
mother, Janice was relieved, once the sun was up, by the daughter of the lodging-house keeper, and wearily
sought her chamber, with nothing but sleep in her thoughts, if thoughts she had at all, for, too exhausted to
undress, she threw herself upon the bed. Scarcely was her head resting on the pillow when there came from
down the street the riffle of drums and the squeaks of fifes, and half in fright, and half in curiosity, the girl
sprang up and pushed open her blinds.

Toward the river she could see what looked like an approaching mob, but behind them could be distinguished
horsemen. As she stood, the rabble ran, or pattered, or, keeping step to the music, marched by, followed by a
drum-and-fife corps. After them came the horsemen, and the girlâs tired eyes suddenly sparkled and her pale
face glowed, as she recognised, pre-eminent among them, the tall, soldierly figure of Washington, sitting
Blueskin with such ease, grace, and dignity. He was talking to an odd, foreign-looking officer of extremely
youthful appearanceâwhom, if Janice had been better in touch with the gossip of the day, she would have
known to be the Marquis de Lafayette, just appointed by Congress a major-general; and while the
commander-in-chief bowed and removed his hat in response to the cheers of the people, this absorption
prevented him from seeing the girl, though she leaned far out of the window in the hope that he would do so.
To the lonely, worried maid it seemed as if one glance of the kindly blue eyes, and one sympathetic grasp of
the large, firm hand, would have cut her troubles in half.

After the group of officers came the rank and file,âlines of men no two of whom were dressed alike, many of
them without coats, and some without shoes; old uniforms faded or soiled to a scarcely recognisable point,
civilian clothing of all types, but with the hunting-shirt of linen or leather as the predominant garb; and
equipped with every kind of gun, from the old Queen Anne musket which had seen service in Marlboroughâs
day to the pea rifle of the frontiers-man. A faint attempt to give an appearance of uniformity had been made
by each man sticking a sprig of green leaves in his hat, yet had it not been for the guns, cartouch boxes,
powder horns, and an occasional bayonet and canteen, only the regimental order, none too well maintained,
differentiated the army from the mob which had preceded them.

While yet the girl gazed wistfully after the familiar figure, her ears were greeted with a still more familiar
voice.

âClose up there and dress your lines, Captain Balch. If this is your âColumn in parade,â what, in Heavenâs
name, is your âMarch at easeâ?â shouted Brereton, cantering along the column from the rear.

He caught sight of Janice as he rode up, and an exclamation of mingled surprise and pleasure burst from him.
Throwing his bridle over a post, he sprang up the three steps, lustily hammered with the knocker, and in
another moment was in the girlâs presence.

XXXVIII BLACK AND WHITE 181

âThis is luck beyond belief,â he exclaimed, as he seized her hand. âYour father wrote me from New York,
begging that I see or send you word that he was well, and asking that you be permitted to join him. At
Brunswick I learned you were here, but, seek you as I might, I could not get wind of your whereabout. And
now I cannot bide to aid you, for we are in full march to meet the British.â

âWhere?â

âThey have landed at the head of the Chesapeake, so we are hastening to get between them and Philadelphia,
and only diverged from our route to parade through the streets this morning, that the people might have a
chance to see us, so ât is given out, but in fact to overawe them; for the city is none too loyal to us, as will be
shown in a few days, when they hear of our defeat.â

âYou mean?â questioned the girl.

âGeneral Washington, generous as he always is, has sent some of his best regiments to Gates, and so we are
marching eleven thousand ill-armed and worse officered men, mostly new levies, to face on open ground
nineteen thousand picked troops. What can come but defeat in the field? If it depended on us, the cause would
be as good as ended, but they are beaten, thanks to their dirty politics, before they even face us.â

âI donât understand.â

ââT is simple enough when one knows the undercurrents. Germaine was against appointing the Howes, and
has always hated them. So he schemes this silly side movement of Burgoyneâs from Canada, and plans that
the army at New York shall be but an assistant to that enterprise, with no share in its glory. Sir William,
however, sloth though he be, saw through it, and, declining to be made a catâs-paw, he gets aboard ship, to
seek laurels for himself, leaving Burgoyne to march and fight through his wilderness alone. Mark me, the
British may capture Philadelphia, but if we can but keep them busy till it is too late to succour Burgoyne, the
winter will see them the losers and not the gainers by the campaign. But there,â he added, âI forget that all this
can have but small interest to you."

âOh,â cried Janice, âyou would nât say that if you knew how good it is just to hear a friendâs voice.â And then
she poured out the tale of her motherâs illness and of her own ordeal.

âWould that I could tarry here and serve and save you!â groaned Brereton, when she had ended; âbut perhaps
luck will attend us, and I may be able to hurry back. Have you money in plenty?â

The girl faltered, for in truth there had been little cash at Greenwood when they were called upon to come
away, and much of that little was already parted with for lodgings and medicines. Yet she managed to nod her
head.

Her pretence did not deceive Jack, and in an instant his purse was being forced into her unwilling fingers.
âThe fall in our paper money gives a leftenant-colonel a lean scrip in these days, but what little I have is
yours,â he said.

âI canât take it,â protested Janice, trying to return the wallet.

Brereton was at the door ere her hand was outstretched. âThy fatherâs letters to me are in the purse, so thou
must keep it,â he urged. âItâs a toss whether I ever need money again, but if I weather this campaign, weâll
consider it but a loan, and if I donât, ât is the use of all others to which I should wish it put.â This he said
seriously, and then more lightly went on: âAnd besides, Miss Janice, I owe you far more than I can ever pay.
We Whigs may forcibly impress, but at least we tender what we can in payment. Keep it, then, as a beggarâs

XXXVIII BLACK AND WHITE 182

poor thanks for the two happiest moments of his life.â The aide passed through the doorway, and the next
moment a horseâs feet clattered in the street.

Janice stood listening till the sound had died out of hearing, then, overcome by this first kindness after such
long weeks of harshness and trial, she kissed the purse. And if Brereton could have seen the flush of emotion
that swept over her face with the impulsive act, it is likely that something else would have been kissed as well.

XXXIX
SHORT COMMONS
The momentâs cheer that the brief dialogue with Brereton brought Janice was added to by the reading of the
two letters from her father to him, which reaffirmed and amplified the little the aide had told her, and ended
that source of misery. And, as if his advent in fact marked the turn of the tide, the doctor announced the next
day that Mrs. Meredithâs typhoid had passed its crisis, and only good nursing was now needed to insure a safe
recovery. The girlâs prayers suddenly changed from ones of supplication to ones of thanksgiving; and she
found herself breaking into song even when at her motherâs bedside, quite forgetful of the need for quiet. This
she was especially prone to do while she helped the long hours of watching pass by knitting on a silken purse
of the most complicated pattern.

The materials for this trifle were purchased on the afternoon following the march of the Continental army, and
for some days the progress was very rapid. Public events then interfered and checked both song and purse. On
September 11 the low boom of guns was heard, and that very evening word came that the Continental army
had been defeated at Brandywine. The moment the news reached Philadelphia an exodus of the timid began,
which swelled in volume as the probability of the capture of the city grew. The streets were filled with
waggons carting away the possessions of the people; the Continental Congress, which had been urging
Washington to fight at all hazard, took to its heels and fled to Lancaster; and all others who had made
themselves prominent in the Whig cause deserted the city. Among those who thought it necessary to go was
the lodging-house keeper; for, her husband being an officer of one of the row galleys in the river, she looked
for nothing less than instant death at the hands of the British. With a plea to Janice, therefore, that she would
care for the house and do what she could to save it from British plundering, the woman and her daughter
departed. Her example was followed by the doctor, not from motives of fear, but from a purpose to join
Washingtonâs army as a volunteer. This threw upon the girlâs shoulders the entire charge of her mother, and
the cooking and providing as well; the latter by far the most difficult of all, for the farmers about Philadelphia
were as much panic-stricken as the townspeople, and for a time suspended all attempts to bring their produce
to market.

The two weeks of this chaos were succeeded by a third of unwonted calm, and then one morning as she
opened the front door on her way to make her daily purchases, Janiceâs ears were greeted with the sound of
military music. Turning up Second Street, curiosity hastening her steps, she became part of the crowd of
women and children running toward the market, and arrived there just in time to see Harcourtâs dragoons,
followed by six battalions of grenadiers, march past to the tune of âGod Save the King.â Following these
came Lord Cornwallis, and then four batteries of heavy artillery; and the crowd cheered the conquerors as
enthusiastically and joyfully as they had Washingtonâs ragged regiments so short a time before.

The advent of the British did not lessen the difficulties of Janice, as they not only promptly seized all the
provisions of the town, but their main army, camped outside the city at Germantown, intercepted the few fresh
supplies which the farmers successfully smuggled through Washingtonâs lines above the city. Fresh beef rose
to nine shillings the pound, bread to six shillings the quartern loaf and everything else in like ratio. Though
Breretonâs loan furnished her with the where-withal for the moment, each dayâs purchases made such inroads
into it that the girl could not but worry over the future.

XXXIX SHORT COMMONS 183

[Illustration: âThe despatchâ]

The stress she had foreseen came far sooner than even she had feared, or had reason to expect. Without
warning, the tradespeople united in refusing to sell for Continental money; and Janice, when she went to make
her usual purchases one day, found that she could buy nothing, and had but stinted and pinched herself only to
husband what in a moment had become valueless.

At first the girlâs distress was so great that she could think of no means of relief; but after hours of miserable
and tearful worrying over her helplessness, her face suddenly brightened, and the cause of the change was
revealed by her thrusting her hand into her neckerchief, to draw out the miniature of herself. With her knitting
needle she pried up the glass and, removing the slip of ivory, laid it carefully in her housewife, heaving, let it
be confessed, a little sigh, for it was hard to part with the one trinket she had ever owned. Unconscious of how
many hours she had been dwelling on her troubles, she caught up her calash, and with the miniature frame in
her hand, hurried to the front door; but the moment she had opened it, she was reminded that it was long after
the closing of the markets, and so postponed whatever she had in mind for another day.

On the following morning she sallied forth, so engrossed in her difficulties, or her project, that she paid no
heed to the distant sound of cannon, nor to the groups of townspeople who stood about on corners or stoops,
evidently discussing something of interest; and it was only when she turned into the market-place, and found
it empty alike of buyers and sellers that she was made to realise that something unusual was occurring.

âWhy are all the stands closed this morning?â she asked of an urchin.

ââCause nawthing âs come ter town along of the fightinâ.â

âFighting?â

âGuess you âre a deefy,â contemptuously suggested the youngster. âDonât you hear them guns? The
grenadiers went out lickety split this morninâ and folks says theyâve got Washington surrounded, anâll have
him captured by night. All the other boys hez gone out on the Germantown road ter see the fun, but daddy
said heâd lick me if I went, so I did nât dare,â he added dejectedly. âHurrah! There come some more
wounded!â he cried, with sudden cheerfulness and breaking into a run as an army van came in sight down
Second Street.

The girl turned away and went into one of the few shops which had opened its shutters.

âYou would not take Continental money yesterday,â she said to the proprietor; âbut perhaps youâyou willâI
thoughtâI have no other kind of money, but perhaps you will accept this in payment?â Janice, with a flushed,
anxious face, unwrapped from her handkerchief and laid down on the counter the miniature frame.

The man took it up and eyed it for a moment, then raised it to his mouth and pressed his teeth on the edge;
satisfied by the experiment, he scrutinised the brilliants. âHow dâ ye come by this?â he demanded
suspiciously.

âOh, indeed, sir,â explained Janice, growing yet redder, âit is mine, I assure you, given me byâthat is, he said I
might keep it.â

ââTainât for me to say it ainât yourn,â responded the shop-keeper; âbut the times is bad times and there âs
roguery of all sorts going on in the city.â He looked it over again, and demanded, âWho does âW. H. J. B.â
mean?â

XXXIX SHORT COMMONS 184

âI donâtâI never knew,â faltered Janice.

âThen where âs the picture that was in it?â

âIâI took it out,â explained the girl, ânot wishing to part with that.â

âThatâs just what ye would have done if yeâd not come by it by rights, âreplied the man.

âThen Iâll put it back,â hastily offered Janice, very much alarmed and flustered. âIâI never dreamed thatâthat
the picture would make it worth any more.â

ââT would have made it look more regular. How much dâ ye want for it?â

âI thoughtâWould five pounds be too much?â

The shop-keeper laid the frame down on the counter and shoved it toward Janice. âNo, I donât want it,â he
said.

âWould three poundsâ?â

âI donât want it at no such price,â interrupted the man.

âOh,â bewailed the girl, âwhat am I to do? The doctor said she was to have nourishing food; and I have
nothing but a little corn meal left. Would you give me one pound for it?â

âI tell ye, I wonât buy it at any price. And I donât even want it in the shop, so take it away. And if you want to
keep out of jail, I would nât be offering it about; Iâve most a mind to call the watch myself, as ât is.â

The threat was enough to make Janice catch up the bijou and leave the shop almost at a run; nor did her pace
lessen as she hurried homeward, and, safely there, she fast bolted the door. This done, with hands which
trembled not a little, she replaced her portrait in the frame, hoping dimly from what the shopkeeper had said,
that this would help to prove her ownership. Yet all that day and the succeeding one she stayed within doors,
dreading what might come; and any unusual noise outside set her heart beating with fear that it might portend
the approach of a danger all the more terrible that it was indefinite. As if her suffering were not great enough,
an added horror was the army vans loaded with groaning wounded, which rumbled by her door during the
sleepless night she spent.

As time lessened her fright, her necessities grew more pressing, and finally became so desperate, that, braving
everything, she went boldly to headquarters, and asked for Lord Cornwallis.

She was referred by the sentry at the stoop to a room on the ground floor, her entrance being accompanied by
the man shouting down the hallway: âHere âs wan more av thim townsfolks, sir.â Entering, Janice discovered
two men seated at a table, each with a little pile of money at his elbow, passing the time with cards.

âWell,â growled the one with his back to the door, âI suppose ât is the usual tale: No bread, no meat, no
firewood; sick wife, sick baby, sick mother, sick anything that can be whined about. Body oâ me, must we not
merely die by bullets or starvation, but suffer a thousand deaths meantime with endless whimpering!

âSlowly, slowly, Mobray,â advised he who faced Janice. âThis is no nasal-voiced and putty-faced cowardly
old Quaker. âT is a damned pretty maid, with eyes and a waist and an ankle fit to be a toast. Ay, and she can
mantle divinely, when sheâs admired!â

XXXIX SHORT COMMONS 185

âYe donât foist that take-in on me, John André! I score six to my suit, and a quint is twenty-one, and a card
played is twenty-two.âWell, graycoat, say your say, and donât stand behind me as a kill-joy.â

âI wish to see Lord Cornwallis, Sir Frederick,â faltered Janice, nerved only by thought of her mother, and
ready to sink through the floor in her mortification.

At the sound of a womanâs voice the officer turned his head sharply, and with the first glance he was on his
feet. âMiss Meredith,â he cried, âa thousand pardons! Who âd have thought to find you here? How can I serve
you?â

âI wish to see Lord Cornwallis,â repeated Janice.

ââT is evident you pay little heed to what has been occurring,â replied Mobray, as he placed a chair for her.
âWe thought we had all the spirit beat out of Mr. Washingtonâs pack oâ ragamuffins; but, egad, day before
yesterday, quite contrary to all the rules of polite warfare, and in a most un-gentlemanly manner, they set upon
us as we lay encamped at Germantown, and wellnigh gave us a drubbing. Lord Cornwallis went to Sir
Williamâs assistance, running his grenadiers at double quick the whole distance, and he has not yet returned.â

âWe deemed rebellion well under our heel when we gained possession of its capital,â chimed in Captain
André; âbut Mr. Washington seems in truth to make a fourth with âa dog, a woman, and a chestnut-tree, the
more they are beat the better they be.â Our very successes are teaching his army how to fight, and I fear me
the day will come when we shall have thrashed them into a victory.â

âBut all this is not helping Miss Meredith,â spoke up Mobray. âLord Cornwallis being beyond reach, can I not
be of aid?â

In a few words the girl poured out the tale of her motherâs sickness, and then with less glibness, and with
reddened cheeks, of her moneyless and foodless condition.

Before she had well finished, the baronet swept up his pile of money on the table and held out the handful of
coins to the girl.

âOh, no,â cried Janice, shrinking back. âIâ Oh, I thank you, but I canât take yourââ

âAh, Miss Meredith,â pleaded Sir Frederick, âI was less proud last winter when we were half starving in
scurvy-plagued and fever-stricken Brunswick.â

âBut food was nothing,â exclaimed Janice, âand that is all I want; just enough for my mother. I thought Lord
Cornwallis mightââ

âIn truth, Miss Meredith, you ask for what is far scarcer than guineas in these days,â said André. âThe
rebels hold the forts in the lower Delaware so tenaciously that our supply ships have not yet been able to get
up to us, and as Washingtonâs army is between us and the back country, we are as near in a state of siege as
nineteen thousand men were ever put by an inferior force.â

âOur men are on quarter rations, and we officers fare but little better,â grumbled Mobray.

âThen what am I to do?â cried Janice, despairingly.

âCome, Fred,â said André, âcanât something be done?â

XXXIX SHORT COMMONS 186

Mobray shook his head gloomily. âI did my best yesterday to get the wounded rebels given some soup and
wine, or at least beef and biscuit that was nât rotten or full of worms, but ât was not to be done; there âs too
much profit in buying the worst and charging for the best.â

âDamn the commissary! say I,â growled André, âand let his fate be to starve ever after on the stuff he
palms on us as fit to eat.â

âAmen,â remarked a voice outside, and Lord Clowes stepped into the room. âIâll take hell and army rations,
Captain André, rather than lose the pleasure of your society,â he added ironically.

âSmall doubt I shall be found there,â retorted André, derisively; âbut I fear me we shall be no better friends,
Baron Clowes, than we are here. There is a special furnace for paroled prisoners!â

âBlast thy tongue, but that insult shall cost thee dear!â returned the commissary, white with rage. âTo whom
shall I send my friend, sir?â

âHold, André,â broke in Mobray, âlet me answer, not for you, but for the army.â He faced Clowes and went
on. âWhen you have surrendered yourself into the hands of the rebels, and have been properly exchanged, sir,
you may be able to find a British officer to carry a challenge on your behalf; until then no man of honour
would lower himself by fighting you.â

âI make Sir Frederickâs answer mine, my Lord,â said André, âand I suggest, as a lady is present, that we
put a finish to our war of words, which can come to nothing.â

The commissary gave a quick glance about the room, and as he became aware of the presence of Janice, he
uttered an exclamation and started forward with outstretched hand. âMiss Meredith!â he ejaculated. âBy all
that âs wonderful!â

Mobray made an impulsive movement as Clowes stooped and kissed the girlâs hand, almost as if intending to
strike the baron; but checking himself; he sarcastically remarked, with a frowning face: âIf you enjoy the
favour of his Lordship, Miss Meredith, you need not look further for help. We fellows who fight for our
country barely get enough to keep life in us, but the commissariat knows not short commons. Mr.
Commissary-General, you have an opportunity to aid Miss Meredith that you should not have were it in my
power to forestall you.â

âCome to my office, Miss Janice,â requested Clowes, perhaps glad to get away from the presence of the
young officers. He led the way across the hallway to another room, and, after the two were seated, would have
taken the girlâs hand again had she not avoided his attempt.

In the fewest possible words Janice retold her plight, broken only by interjections of sympathy from her
listener, and by two futile endeavours to gain possession of her hand.

âHave no fear of any want in the future,â he exclaimed heartily. âIn truth, Miss Meredith, on our entrance we
seized much that was unfit for the troops, while since then the military necessities have compelled the
destruction of many of the finest houses about Germantown, and I took good care that what store of delicacies
and wines they might hold should not be destroyed along with them. But give me thy number, and thy mother
shall have all that she needs.â Clowes caught the maidenâs hand, and though she rose with the action, and
slightly shrank away from him, this time he had his will and kissed it hotly.

Janice gave the address and thanked him with warm words of gratitude, somewhat neutralised by her trying to
free her hand.

XXXIX SHORT COMMONS 187

Instead of yielding to her wish, the commissary only tightened his grasp. âYe have owed me something for
long,â he said, drawing her toward him in spite of her striving. âSurely I have earned it to-day.â

âLord Clowes, I begââ began Janice; but there she ended the plea, and, throwing her free arm as a shield
before her face, she screamed.

Instantly there was a sound of a falling chair, and both the card-players burst into the room.

Quick as they were, Clowes had already dropped his hold, and at a respectful distance was saying: âThe wine
and food shall reach ye within the hour, Miss Meredith.â

Janice silently curtseyed her thanks, and darted past the young officers, alike anxious to escape explanation to
them, or further colloquy with her persecutor.

In this latter desire the girl secured but a brief postponement, for she was not long returned when the knocker
summoned her to the front door, and on the steps stood the commissary and two soldiers laden with a basket
apiece.

âYe see Iâm true to my word, Miss Meredith,â said Lord Clowes. âGive me the whiskets, and be off with ye,â
he ordered to the men; and then to the girl continued: âWhere will ye have them bestowed?â

âOh, Iâll not trouble thee,â protested Janice, blocking the entrance, âjust hand them to me.â

âNay, ât is no trouble,â the officer assured her, setting one foot over the sill. âAnd, besides, I have word of
your father to tell ye.â

Reluctantly the maiden gave him passage, and pointed out a place of deposit in the entry for his burden. Then
she fell back to the staircase, and went up a few steps. Yet she eagerly questioned: âWhat of my father?â

Clowes came to the foot of the ascent. âHe is on one of the transports in the lower Delaware, and as soon as
we can reduce the rebel works, and break through their cursed chevaux-de-frise, he will come up to
Philadelphia.â

âOh,â almost carolled Janice, âwhat joyous news!â

âAnd does the bringer deserve no reward?â

âFor that, and for the food, I thank you deeply, Lord Clowes,â said the girl, warmly.

âIâm not the man to take my pay in mere lip music,â answered the commissary. âHarkee, Miss Meredith,
there is a limit to my forbearance of thy skittishness. Thou wast ready enough to wed me once, and I have
never released thee from the bargain. Henceforth I expect a loverâs privileges until they can be made those of
a husband.â Clowes took two steps, upward.

âI think, Lord Clowes, that ât is hardly kind of you to remind me of my shame,â replied Janice, with a gentle
dignity very close to tears. âDeceitful I was and disobedient, and no one can blame me more than I have come
to blame myself. But you are not the one to speak of it nor to pretend that my giddy conduct was any pledge.â

âThen am I to understand that I was lover enough when thy needs required it, but that now I am to be jilted?â
demanded the man, harshly.

XXXIX SHORT COMMONS 188

âYour version is a cruel one that I am sure you cannot think just.â

âYe hold to it that ye are not bound to me?â

âYes.â

The commissary fell back to where he had set the baskets. âIn your necessity ye felt otherwise, and I advise ye
to remember that ye still require my aid. I am not one of those who lavish favours and expect no return,
though a good friend to those who make it worth my while. If I am to have naught from ye, ye shall have
naught from me.â He picked up the baskets. âHere is milk, bread, meat, jellies, and wines, to be had for a
price, and only for a price.â

âOh, prithee, Lord Clowes,â begged Janice, despairingly, âyou cannot seek to advantage yourself of my
desperate plight. All I had to give my mother this morning was some water gruel, and I have not tasted food
myself for a twenty-four hours.â

âYour anxiety for your mother cannot be over great. I only ask ye to avow that ye consented to become my
wife, and should have done so, had we been left free.â

The girl wavered; then buried her face in her hands, and in a scarcely audible voice said: âI did intendâfor a
brief spaceâdid think toâto marry you.â

âAnd yeâve never given a promise to another man?â

âNever.â

Clowes set down the baskets. âThat is all I wished acknowledged,â he said. âIâll ask no more till ye have
decided whether ye will be true to the troth ye have just confessed, Janice.â He opened the front door, and
added as he passed out: âWhen these supplies are exhausted, ye know where more is to be had.â

XL
THE BATTLE FOR FOOD AND FORAGE
When Janice came to examine the contents of the baskets, she was somewhat disappointed at the mess of
pottage for which she had half bartered herself. Though every article the commissary had enumerated was to
be found, it was in meagre quantities, and the girl was shrewd-witted enough to divine the giver's
intention,âthat she should be quickly forced again to appeal to him. Her motherâs requirements and her own
hunger, however, prevented dwelling on the future, and scarcely had these been attended to, when Mobray
and André appeared, to inquire if her immediate needs were supplied, and with a plan of assistance.

âMiss Meredith,â said Mobray, âCaptain André and I have had assigned to us for quarters the Franklin
house down on Second Street; and he and I have agreed that, if Mrs. Meredith can be moved, you are to come
and share it with us.â

âWe ask it as a favour, which, if granted, will make us the envy of the army,â remarked André. âAnd it
will, I trust, not be an entirely one-sided benefit. The old foxâs den is more than comfortable, Mobray and I
have a couple of rankers as servants, one of whom has more or less attached to him a woman who cooks well
enough to make even the present ration eatable, and, lastly, though our presence may be something of a
handicap, yet in such unsettled times one must tolerate the dogs if they but keep out the wolves. Hang and
whip as we may, the men will plunder, and some in high office are little better. Alone here, you are scarcely

XL THE BATTLE FOR FOOD AND FORAGE 189

safe, but with us you need have no fear.â

Janice attempted some objections, but her previous helplessness and loneliness, as well as her recent fright
from the commissary, made them faint-hearted, and it needed little urgence to win her consent to the plan. Her
mother approving, a surgeon and an ambulance were secured, and before nightfall the removal was safely
accomplished.

When, after the first good nightâs sleep she had enjoyed since her mother sickened, the girl was summoned to
breakfast, she found that others had been more wakeful. In the middle of the table was a pail of milk, a pile of
eggs, four unplucked fowls, and two sucking pigs, arranged with some pretence of ornament, with two
officerâs sword-knots to better the attempt at decoration, and the whole surmounted by a placard reading:
âOnly the brave deserve the fare.â

âGaze, Miss Meredith!â, cried André, jubilantly. âSee the results of a valour of which you were the
inspiration! Marathon, Cressy, Fontenoy, and Quebec pale before the march, the conflict, and the retreat of
last night, the glories of which would neâer be credited, even alas! were it not necessary that they should neâer
be told.â

âWe held counsel concerning our larder,â Sir Frederick explained, as the girl looked questioningly from man
to man, âand agreed that since you had honoured us, we could not dare to starve you and Mrs. Meredith on
salt pork and sea biscuit. So, last night, André and I, with our two servants, laid hold of a boat, crossed the
Delaware, levied tribute on a fat Jersey farm, and returned ere day had come. Item.âTo disobeying the general
orders by stealing through the lines: one hundred lashes on the bare back. Item.âFor ordering a soldier to
break the rules of war: ten days in the guardhouse. Item. âFor plundering, contrary to proclamation: death by
shooting. Wilt drop a tear oâer my grave, fair lady?â

âOh, sirs!â exclaimed Janice, âyou should notâto take such riskââ

âNot since I went birds-nesting in Kent have I had such a nightâs sport,â declared André, gleefully. âAnd
the thought that we were checkmating that scoundrel Clowes did not bate the pleasure. If he were fit company
for gentlemen we have him to dinner to-day, just to spoil his appetite with sight of our cates.â

âYou do not likeâ Why do you call Lord Clowes scoundrel?â asked Janice.

Mobray shrugged his shoulders as he made answer: âOn enough grounds and to boot. But ât is sufficient that
he gave his parole to the rebels, and then broke it by escaping to our lines. He is a living daily disgrace to the
uniform we all wear, and yet his influence is so powerful with Sir William that we can do nothing against
him. Pray Heaven that some day heâll not be able to keep in the rear, and that the rebels recapture and give
him the rope he merits.â

In contrast to the past, the next few days were very happy ones to Janice. Her mother mended steadily, and
was soon able to come to meals and to stay downstairs. The servants relieved the girl of all the household
drudgery, and spared her from all dwelling on her empty purse. As for the young officers, they could not do
enough to entertain her, and, it is to be suspected, themselves. Piquet was quite abandoned, and in place of it
nothing would do André but he must teach Janice to paint. Not to be thrown in the background, Mobray
produced his flute, and, thanks to a fine harpsichord Franklin had imported for his daughter, was able to have
numberless duets with the maiden. Then they took short rides to the south of the city, where the Delaware and
Schuylkill safeguarded a restricted territory from rebel intrusion, and daily walks along the river-front or in
the State House Gardens, where one of the bands of a few regiments garrisoning the city played every
afternoon for the amusement of the officers and townspeople, and where Janice was made acquainted with
many a young macaroni officer or feminine toast. Save for the high price of provisions, and the constant war

XL THE BATTLE FOR FOOD AND FORAGE 190

talk, Philadelphia bore little semblance to being in a state of semi-siege, and the prize which two armies were
striving to hold or win, not by actual conflict, but by a strategy which aimed to keep closed or to open sources
of supplies.

Late in October Howeâs army fell back from Germantown and took position just outside the city, where it was
set to work throwing up lines of fortifications. And a startling rumour which seemed to come from nowhere,
but which, in spite of denials from headquarters, spread like wildfire, supplied a reason for both the retrograde
movement and the construction of blockhouses and redoubts.

âThe rebels have the effrontery to give it out that they have captured General Burgoyneâs whole force,â
sneeringly announced Mobray, as he returned from guard mount. âThere seems no limit to the size of their
lies.â

âLa! Sir Frederick,â exclaimed Janice, âât is just what Colonelâwhat somebody predicted. He said that if
General Washington could but keep Sir William busy until it would be too late for him to go General
Burgoyneâs aid, all would be well at the end of the campaign.â

âAnd having conceived the hope, they seek to bolster their cause by spreading the tale abroad,â scoffed the
baronet.

ââFacile est inventis addere,ââ laughed André. âThey are merely settling the moot point as to who is the
father of invention.â

âWhat rebel was it bubbled the conceit to you, Miss Meredith?â inquired Mobray.

ââT was Colonel Brereton,â replied the girl, with a faint hesitation. Then she added, as if a new idea occurred
to her, âSo you see the American is not the father of invention, Colonel Brereton being an Englishman.â
Though spoken as an assertion, the statement had a definite question in it.

âWho is this fellow, who, like Charles Lee, fights against his own country?â asked André.

âNo one you ever knew, John,â replied Mobray; âbut I, who do, have it not in my heart to blame him.â

âWilt not tell us his history?â begged Janice, eagerly. âOnce he said his great-grandfather was King of
England, and since then Iâve so longed to know it!â

ââT is truth he spoke, poor fellow, but he was an old-time friend of mine, which would be enough to seal my
lips respecting his sorry tale, since he wishes oblivion for it. But I am his debtor as well, for he it was who
helped me to a prompt exchange when I was taken prisoner last spring.â

âOf course I would not have thee tell me anything that is secret,â remarked Janice. Then, after a moment, she
went on, âThere is, however, something of which you may be able to inform me?â

âBut name your desire.â

âI must get it,â announced the girl, and she left the room and went upstairs. But once in the upper hallway, she
did not go to her room, merely pausing long enough to take the miniature from its abiding spot, and then
returned. âWilt tell me if the diamonds are false?â she requested, placing the ornament in Andréâs hand.

âNo, for a certainty,â replied the captain.

XL THE BATTLE FOR FOOD AND FORAGE 191

âThen is it not worth five pounds?â exclaimed Janice.

âFive pounds,â laughed André, derisively. ââT is easily worth five hundred!â

âOh, never!â cried the girl.

âAy. Am I not right, Mobray?â

âBeyond question. And then ât is not worth the portrait it encircles,â asserted Mobray, gallantly.

âAnd yet I could not get one pound for it,â marvelled Janice, and told the two officers how she had sought to
barter it.

ââT is evident you asked too little, Miss Meredith,â surmised André, âand so made him suspect your title.â

âWould that you might offer it to me at a hundred times five pounds!â bemoaned the baronet. âTo think of
such a pearl being cast before such swine

âWho painted it, Miss Meredith?â asked André.

ââT was Colonel Brereton.â

Mobray looked up quickly at her, then once more at the miniature. He turned it over, and as the initials on the
back caught his eye, he frowned, but more with intentness than anger. For a moment he held it, then handed it
to Janice with the remark, âKnow you the frameâs history?â

âOnly that it once held another portrait, and that of a most beautiful girl.â

âWhom he forgot, it appears, once you were seen, for which small blame to him, Miss Meredith,â replied
Mobray, as he rose and left the room, his face set sternly, as if he were fighting some emotion.

For two days the young officers continued to get infinite amusement out of the rebel news, but on the third
their gibes and flouts ceased, and a sudden gravity ensued, the cause of which was explained to the women
that evening when the time had come for âgood-night.â

âLadies,â said André, âthe route is ordered before daybreak to-morrow, so we must say a farewell to you
now, and leave you for a time to the sole charge of Mrs. OâFlaherty. She has orders from us, and from her
putative spouse, to take the greatest care of you both, and we have endeavoured to arrange that you shall want
for nothing during what we fervently hope will be but a brief absence.â

âFor what are you leaving us?â asked Mrs. Meredith.

âIn truth, ât is a sorry business,â growled Mobray. âConfirmation came last night of Burgoyneâs capitulation,
and this means that General Gatesâs army will at once effect a juncture with Washingtonâs, and the combined
force will give us more than we bargained to fight. Burgoyneâs fiasco makes it all the more necessary that we
hold Philadelphia, and so, as our one chance, we must, ere the union is effected, capture the forts on the
Delaware, that our warships and supplies may come to us, lest, when the moment arrives for our desperate
struggle, we be handicapped by short commons and no line of retreat.â

âWilt pray for our success, Miss Meredith?â

XL THE BATTLE FOR FOOD AND FORAGE 192

âAy,â urged the baronet, âfor whatever your sympathies, remember that we fight this time to reunite you with
your father.â

And that night Janice made her first plea in behalf of the British arms.

The absence of Mobray and André brought the commissary once again to the fore. Previous to their
departure he had dropped in upon the Merediths, only to receive a cool greeting from Janice, and such cold
ones from the two captains as discouraged repetition. Now, relieved of their supercilious taunts and affronts,
the baron became a daily visitor. He always brought gifts of delicacies, paid open court to Mrs. Meredith, and
never once recurred to the words he had wrung from Janice, for the time making himself both useful and
entertaining. From his calls the ladies learned the course of the war and of what the distant cannonading
meant: of the bloody repulse of Donopâs Hessians at Red Bank, of the burning of the Augusta 64, of the
bombardment of the forts on Mud Island, and of the other desperate fighting by which the British struggled to
free their jugular vein, the river, from the clutch of Washingtonâs forces.

It was Clowes who brought them the best proof of the final triumph of the royal army, for one November
morning he broke in upon their breakfast, unannounced, and with him came Mr. Meredith.

Had the squire ever doubted the affection of his wife and daughter, the next few minutes of inarticulate but
ecstatic delight would have convinced him once for all. Mrs. Meredith, who, since her fever, had been
unwontedly gentle and affectionate, welcomed him as he had not been greeted in years; and Janice, shifting
from tears to laughter and back again, wellnigh choked him in her delight. Breakfast was forgotten, while the
exile was made to tell all his adventures, and of how finally he had escaped from the ship on which perforce
he had been for three months.

ââT was desperate fighting on both sides, but we were too many for them, and the river is free at last. The
transport âSurreyâ was third to come up to the city, and the moment I was ashore I sought out Lord Clowes,
hoping to get word of ye, and was not disappointed. Pox me! but Iâd begun to think that never again should I
see ye!â

There was so much to tell and to listen to in the next few days that the reunited family gave little heed to
public events, though warm salutations and thanks were lavished on Mobray and André upon the return of
the regiments which had operated against the forts.

An enforced change speedily brought them back to the present. The mustering of all the royal army, now
swelled by reinforcements of three thousand troops hurriedly summoned from New York, compelled a
rebilleting of the troops, and nine more officers were assigned by the quartermaster-general to the Franklin
house, overcrowding it to such an extent as to end the possibility that it should longer shelter the Merediths.
The squire went to Sir William Erskine, only to be told that as he was a civilian, the Quartermasterâs
Department could, or at least would, do nothing for him. An appeal to Clowes resulted better, for that officer
offered to share his own lodgings with his friends,âa generosity which delighted Mr. Meredith, but which put
an anxious look on his daughterâs face and a scowl on that of Mobray.

âI make no doubt ât was a well-hatched scheme from the start,â he asserted. âLord Clowes and Erskine are but
Tom Tickle and Tom Scratch.â

With the same thought in her own mind, Janice took the first opportunity to beg her father to seek further
rather than accept the commissaryâs hospitality.

âNay, lass,â replied Mr. Meredith. âBeggars cannot be choosers, and that is what we are. Remember that I am
without money, and have been so ever since those rascals hounded me from home. Had not Lord Clowes

XL THE BATTLE FOR FOOD AND FORAGE 193

generously stepped forward as he has, we should be put to it to get through the winter without being frozen or
starved. And your motherâs health is not such as could stand either, that ye know.â

âYou are quite right, dadda,â assented the girl, as she stooped and kissed him. âIâI had a reasonâwhich now I
will not trouble you withâand selfishly forgot both mommy and our poverty.â Then flinging her arms about
his neck, she hid her head against his shoulder and said: âI am promised âyou have given Philemon your
word, and youâll not go back on it, will you, dadda?â almost as if she were making a prayer.

âOdds my life! what scatter-brains women are born with!â marvelled Mr. Meredith. âNo wonder the adage
runs that âa womanâs mind and a winterâs wind oft changeâ! In the name of evil, Jan, what started ye off on
that tangent?â

âYou will keep faith with him, dadda?â pleaded the daughter.

âOf course I will,â affirmed the squire. âAnd glad I am, lass, to find that yeâve come to see that I knew not
merely what was best for ye, but what would make ye happiest. If the poor lad is ever exchanged, ât will be
glad news for him.â

The removal to the commissaryâs quarters might have been for a time postponed, for barely had the new
arrangement been achieved when another manoeuvre wellnigh emptied the city of the British troops. Massing
fourteen thousand soldiers, Howe sallied forth to attack the Continental army in its camp at Whitemarsh.

âWe have word,â Lord Clowes explained, âthat Gates is playing his own game, and, instead of bringing his
army to Mr. Washingtonâs aid, he keeps tight hold of it, and has, after needless delay, sent him but a bare four
thousand men. So, in place of waiting for an attack, Sir William intends to drive the rebels back into the hills,
that we may obtain fresh provisions and forage as we need them.â

The movement proved but a march up a hill to march down again, and four days later saw the British troops
back in Philadelphia with only a little skirmishing and some badly frosted toes and ears to show for the sally,
the young officers tingling and raging with shame at not having been allowed to fight the inferior Continental
army.

The commissary, however, took it philosophically. âTheir position was too strong, and they shoot too
straight,â he told his guests. âIt will all turn for the best, since no army can keep the field in such weather, and
Washington will be forced to go into winter quarters. He must then fall back on Lancaster and Reading, out of
striking distance, leaving us free to forage on the country at will.â

Once again his prediction was wrong. âThat marplot of a rebel general has schemed a new method of
troubling us,â he grumbled angrily a week later. âInstead of wintering his troops in a town, as any other
commander would, our spies bring us word that he has marched them to a strong position on Valley Creek, a
bare twenty miles from here, and has them all as busy as beavers throwing up earthworks and building huts. If
God does nât kindly freeze the devilâs brood, theyâll tie us into our lines just as they did last winter, and give
us an ounce of lead for every pound of forage we seek. No sooner do we beat them, and take possession of a
town, than they close in and put us in a state of siege, just as if they were the superior force. Small wonder that
Sir William has written the Ministry that America canât be conquered, and asking his Majestyâs permission to
resign. A curse on the man who conceived such a mode of warfare!â

XL THE BATTLE FOR FOOD AND FORAGE 194

XLI
WINTER QUARTERS
No sooner had the British returned from their brief sally than they settled into winter quarters, and gave
themselves up to such amusements as the city afforded or they could create.

The commissary had taken good heed to have one of the finest of the deserted Whig houses in the city
assigned to him, and whatever it had once lacked had been supplied. A coach, a chair, and four saddle-horses
were at his beck and call; a dozen servants, some military and some slave, performed the household and stable
work; a larder and a cellar, filled to repletion, satisfied every creature need, and their contents were served on
plate and china of the richest.

âIâ faith,â explained the officer, when Mr. Meredith commented on the completeness and elegance of the
establishment, âât is something to be commissary-general in these times; and since the houses about
Germantown were to be destroyed, ât was contrary to nature not to take from them what would serve to make
me comfortable. Their owners, be they friends or foes, are none the poorer, for they think it all perished in the
flames, as it would have done but for my forethought.â

However lavish the hospitality of Lord Clowes could be under these circumstances, it was not popular with
the army, and such officers as came to eat and drink at his table were more remarkable for their gastronomic
abilities than for their wits and manners. In his civilian guests the quality was better, the man being so
powerful through his office that the best of the townsfolk only too gladly gathered about his table when they
were bidden,âan eagerness at which the commissary jeered even while he invited them.

âThey are all to be bought,â he sneered. âThere is Tom Willing, who made the most part of his money
importing Guinea niggers, and now is in a mortal funk lest some of it, like them, shall run away. Two years
ago he was a member of the rebel Congress and a partner of that desperate speculator Morris, with a hand
thrust deep in the Continental treasury rag-bag. Now he has trimmed ship better than any of his slavers ever
did, gone about on the opposite tack, and is so loyal to British rule that his greatest ambition is to get his other
hand in some government contracts. He and his pretty wife will dine here every time they are asked, and so
will all the rest, yeâll see.â

During the first days in their new domiciliary, Janice showed the utmost nervousness, seldom leaving her
motherâs or fatherâs side, and never venturing into the hallways without a previous peep to see that they were
empty. As the weeks wore on without any attempt on the commissaryâs part to surprise her into a
tête-à -tête, to recur to the words he had forced her to utter, or to be anything but a polite, entertaining, and
thoughtful host, the girl gained courage, and little by little took life more equably. She would have been been
less easy, though better able to understand his conduct, had she overheard or had repeated to her a
conversation between Lord Clowes and her father on the day that they first took up their new abode.

âA beggarâs thanks are lean ones, Clowes,â the squire had said, over the wine; âbut if ever the dice cease from
throwing me blanks, ye shall find that Lambert Meredith has not forgot your loans of home and money.â

âTalk not to me in such strain, Meredith,â replied the host, with the frank, hearty manner he could so well
command. âI ask no better payment than your company, but ât is in your power to shift the debt onto my
shoulders at any time, and by a single word at that.â

âHow so?â

XLI WINTER QUARTERS 195

âIt has scarce slipped thy memory that in a momentâs mistrust of theeâwhich I now concede was both
unfriendly and unjustifiableâI sought to run off with thy beautiful maid. She was ready to marry me out of
hand; but give thy consent as well, and I shall be thy debtor for life.â

âYe knowââ began Mr. Meredith.

[Illustration: âWho are you?â]

âAnd what is more,â went on the suitor, âthough ât is not for me to make boast, I can assure ye that Lord
Clowes is no bad match. In the last two years Iâve salted down nigh sixty thousand pounds in the funds and
bank stock.â

âAdzooks!â aspirated the squire. âHow did ye that?â

âHah, hah!â laughed the commissary, triumphantly. âThat is what it is to play the cards aright. âT was all
from being carried on that cursed silly voyage to the Madeiras which at that moment I deemed the work of the
Evil One himself. I could get but a passage to Halifax, and by luck I arrived there just as Sir William put in
with the fleet from Boston. We had done a stroke or two of business in former times, and so I was able to gain
his ear, and unfold a big scheme to him.â

âAnd what was that?â

âHah! a great scheme,â reiterated Clowes, smacking his lips, after a long swallow of spirits. âSays I, make me
commissary-general, and Iâll make our fortunes. Weâll impress food and forage, and the government shall pay
us for every pound ofââ

ââT was madness,â broke in Mr. Meredith. âDost not know that nothing has so stirred the people as the taking
their crops without payment?â

âLike as not,â assented the commissary; âbut ât is also the way to subdue them. They began a war, and they
must pay the usual penalty until they are sickened of it. And since the seizures were to be made, ât was too
good a chance not to turn an honest penny. Pray Heaven they donât lay down their arms too soon, for I
ambition to be wealthier still. Canst hope better for your daughter than that she be made Lady Clowes, and
rich to boot?â

âSheâs promisedââ began the squire, but once again the suitor cut him off.

âShe herself told me she is pledged to no one but me.â

âNay, Iâve passed my word to Leftenant Hennion.â

âChut! A subaltern whoâll bless his stars if he ever is allowed to starve on a captainâs pay. Thou canst not
really mean to do thy daughter such an injury?â

My word is passed; and Lambert Meredith breaks not that. The lad âs a good boy, too, whoâll make her a
good husband, with a fine estate, if peace ever comes again in the land.â

The officer thrummed a moment on the table. âThen ât is only thy word to this fellow, and no want of
friendliness that leads thee to give me nay?â he asked.

XLI WINTER QUARTERS 196

âOf that ye may be sure,â assented Mr. Meredith, eagerly availing himself of the easy escape from the
quandary that his host made for him.

âAnd but for the promise yeâd give her to me?â

The father hesitated and swallowed before he made reply, and when the words came, it was with an
observable reluctance that he said: âYe should know that.â

âThat is all I ask,â cried the commissary. âI knew ye were not the man to eat anotherâs bread and not do what
ye could for him. Weâll not hope for harm to the lad, but if the camp fever or small-pox or aught else should
come to him, Iâll remind ye of the promise yeâve just spoken, sure that the man who wonât break his word to
one wonât to tâ other.â

âThat ye may tie to,â acceded Mr. Meredith, though with a dubious manner, as if something perplexed him.
And in his own room that evening he paused for a moment after removing his wig and remarked to himself:
âPromise I suppose I did, though I neâer intended it. Well, let âs hope that Phil gets her; and if some
miscarriage prevents, ât is something that she should be made great and rich, though I wish the money had
come in some more honest way to a more honest man.â

As for the commissary, once retired to his own room, he wrote a letter which he superscribed âTo David
Sproat, Deputy Commissary of Prisoners at New York.â But this done, he tore it up, and tossed the fragments
into the fire, with the remark: âWhy should I put my name to it, when Loring or Cunningham can give the
order just as well? Iâll see one or tâ other to-morrow, and so prevent all chance of its being traced to me.â
Then he sat looking for a time at the embers reflectively. ââT is folly to want her,â he said finally, as he rose
and began the removal of his coat, ânow that ye need not her money; but sheâs enough to tempt any man with
blood in his veins, and I can afford the whim. Keep that blood in check, however, till ye have her fast; and do
not frighten her as ye have done. To think of Lord Clowes, cool enough to match any man, losing his head
over a whiffling bit of woman-flesh! What devilâs baits they are!â

Put at ease by the commissaryâs conduct toward her, Janice entered eagerly into the gaiety with which the
army beguiled the tedium of winter quarters. Dislike of Clowes precluded André and Mobray from coming
to the house, but they saw much of the maiden elsewhere. She and Peggy Chew had been made known to each
other by André early in the British occupation, and they promptly established the warm friendship that girls
of their age so easily form, and spent many hours together. The two captains were quick to discover that the
Chew house was a pleasant one, and became almost as constant visitors there as Janice herself. At Andréâs
suggestion the painting lessons were resumed, with Miss Chew as an additional pupil, and he undertook to
teach them French as well; the music, too, was revived for Mobrayâs benefit, though now more often as a trio
or quartette; and many other pleasures were shared in common. Both young officers were deeply concerned in
the series of plays for which the theatre was being made ready; and the girls not merely heard them rehearse
their respective parts, but with scissors and needles helped to make costumes for the amateur actors.

âOh!â sighed Janice one day, after hearing Mobray through his lines in âThe Deuce is in Him,â âIâd give a
finger but to see it played.â

âSee it!â exclaimed the baronet. âOf course youâll see it.â

âThey say there âs a great demand for places,â demurred Peggy.

âHave no fear as to that,â said André. âDo you think Iâve risked my neck painting the curtain and scenery,
and worked myself thin over it generally, not to get what I deserve in return. My name was next down after
Sir Williamâs for a box, and in it such beauty shall be exhibited that ât is likely we poor Thespians will get not

XLI WINTER QUARTERS 197

so much as a look from the exquisites of the pit.â

âLack-a-day!â grieved Janice, âmommy will never hear of my going to see a play. Iâve not so much as dared
to tell her that Iâm helping you.â

âDevil seize me, but you shall attend, if it takes a provost guard to do it,â predicted Mobray.

Neither the protests nor prayers of the baronet, however, served to gain Mrs. Meredithâs consent that her
daughter should enter what she called âThe Devilâs Pit,â but what he could not bring to pass the commissary
did.

âI have bespoke a box for the first performance at the theatre,â Lord Clowes announced at dinner one evening,
âand bid ye all as my guests.â

ââT is a sinful place, to which I will never lend my countenance,â said Mrs. Meredith, with such promptness
as to suggest a forestalling of her husband and daughter.

The commissary bowed his head in apparent acquiescence, but when he and the squire were left to their wine
he recurred to the matter.

âI look to ye, Meredith,â he said, âto overcome your wifeâs absurd whimsey.â

ââT is useless to argue with Matilda when her mind âs made up,â answered the husband, dejectedly. âThat I
have learned time and again.â

âAnd so ât is with all women, if a man âs so foolish as to argue. Didst ever hear of ignorance paying heed to
reason? Thereâs but one way to deal with the sex: âDo this, do that; ye shall, ye shaânât,â is all the vocabulary
a man needs to make matrimony agreeable. Put your foot down, and, mark me, sheâll come to heel like a
spaniel. But go ye must, for Sir William makes it a positive point that all of prominence attend the theatre and
assembly, that the public may learn that the gentry are with us.â

âThey brought no clothes for such occasions,â objected the squire, falling back on a new line of defence.

âTake fifty pounds more from me; ât will be money well spent.â

âI like not to increase my borrowings, and especially for female fallals and furbelows.â

âNonsense, man; donât shy at a few hundred pounds. Ye know one year of order and rents will pay all ye owe
me twice over. Ye must not displeasure Sir William for such a sum.â

So it came to pass that the squire, when they rejoined the ladies, emboldened by his wine, promptly let fall the
observation that he had decided they were all to go to the theatre.

âThou heardst me say that I am principled against it,â dissented Mrs. Meredith.

âTush, Matilda! I gave in to your Presbyterian swaddling clothes and lacing-strings at Greenwood, but now ye
must do as I say. So get ye to a mercerâs to-morrow, and set to on proper clothes.â

âDost wish to see thy wife and daughter damned, Lambert?â

XLI WINTER QUARTERS 198

âAy, if that âs to be my fate, and so should ye. Go I shall to the theatre, and so shall Janice. If ye prefer
salvation to our company, stay at home.â

âOh, mommy, please, please go,â eagerly implored Janice. âCaptain André assures me that ât is not in the
least evil.â

With tears in her eyes, Mrs. Meredith rose. ââT is not right; but if sin thou must, I too will eat of the fruit,
rather than be parted from thee.â She kissed both Mr. Meredith and Janice with an almost savage tenderness,
and passed hurriedly from the room, leaving a very astounded husband and a very delighted daughter.

The girlâs delight was not lessened the next day when they went a-shopping, and with the purchases a sudden
end was put to her help of the theatricals, and even, temporarily, to the French and painting lessons. If ever
maid was grateful for the weary hours of training in fine sewing and embroidery, Janice was, as she toiled,
with cheeks made hectic by excitement, over the frock in which her waking thoughts were centred. When
finally the day came for the trying on, and it fulfilled her highest expectation, her ecstasy, unable to contain
itself, was forced to find expression, and she poured the rapture out in a letter to Tabitha, though knowing full
well that only by the luckiest chance could it ever be sent.

âOnly to think of it, Tibbie!â she wrote. âWe are to have plays given by the officers, and
weekly dancing assemblies, and darling dadda says I am to go to both; and all my gowns
being monstrous nugging and frumpish, he told mommy to see that I had a new one, though
where the money came from (for though I did every stitch myself, it cost a pretty pennyâno
less than seventeen pounds and eight shillings, Tibbie!) I have puzzled not a little to fancy. I
fear me I cannot describe it justly to you, but I will do my endeavour. âT is a black velvet
with pink satin sleeves and stomacher, and a pink satin petticoat, over which is a fall of white
crape; the sides open in front, spotted all over with gray embroidery, and the edge of the coat
and skirt trimmed with gray fur. Oh, Tibbie, ât is the most elegant and dashy robing that ever
was! Pray Heaven I donât dirt it for it is to serve for the whole winter! Peggy has three new
frocks, and Margaret Shippen four, but mine is the prettiest, and by tight lacing (though no
tighter than theirs) I make my waist an ell smaller than either. In addition, I have a nabob of
gray tabby silk trimmed with the same fur, which has such a sweet and modish air that I could
cry at having to remove it but for what it would conceal. I intend to ask Peggy if ât would be
citified and à la mode to keep it on for a little while after entering the box by the plea that
the playhouse is cold. The high mode now is to dress the hair enormous tallâa good eight
inches, Tibbieâover a steel frame, powdered mighty white, and to stick a mouchet or two on
the face. It seems to me I cannot wait for the night, yet my teeth rattle and my hands tremble
and I am all in a shake whenever I think of it; if I can but keep from being mute as a
stock-fish, and gawkish, for I am all alive with fear that I shall be both, and shame us all!
Peggy has taught me the minuet glide and curtsey and languish, and I am to step it at the first
Assembly with Captain André,â such a pretty, engaging fellow, Tibbie, who will never
swing for want of tongue; and Lord Rawdon has bespoke my hand for the quadrille,âa stern,
frowning man, who frights me greatly, but ât is a monstrous distinction I need scarce say to
be asked by one who will some day be an earl, Tibbieâand I dance the Sir Roger de Coverley
with Sir Frederick Mobray, who is delightsome, too, by his rallying, performs most
entrancingly on the flute, and is one of the best bowlers in the weekly cricket matches, but
who is said to play very deep at Pharaoh in the club the officers have established; and to keep
a great number of fighting cocks on which he wagers vast sumsâif rumour speaks true, as
high as a hundred guineas on a single main, Tibbieâat the cock-pit they have set up. A great
crowd assembled yesterday to see him and Major Tarleton ride their chargers from Sixth
Street to the river on a bet, and he lost because a little girl toddled out from the sidewalk and
he pulled up, while the major, who is a wonderful horseman, spurred and leaped over her. But

XLI WINTER QUARTERS 199

 he was blamed for taking the risk, for his horse might not have risen, so Colonel Harcourt told
Nancy Bond. âT was Major Tarleton, I daresay you recollect; who was at our house when
General Lee was captivated; and P. Hennion then told me he was considered the most
reckless and dare-devil officer in the cavalry, but a cruel man. âMr. Lee,â as they all term
him, here,âfor they will not give the Whigs any titles,âhas just been brought to Philadelphia
and is at large on parole, pending an exchange, which has been delayed because ât is feared
by the British that any convention may be taken as a recognition of the rebels, and be so
considered by France and Spain.

âSo much has happened,â the letter-writer continued a week later, âI scarce know where to
begin, Tibbie, nor how to convey to you the wondrous occurrences. Oh, Tibbie, Tibbie, plays
are the most amazing and marvellous things in the world! Not a one of the officers could I
recognise, so changed they were, and they did us females to the life. âT was so enchanting
that at times I found myself gasping through very forgetfulness to breathe, and I was
dreadfully rallied and quizzed because I burst into tears when the poor minor seemed to have
lost both his love and his property. But how can I touch off my feelings, when, in the fourth
act; the villain was detected; and all ended as it should! And, oh! Tibbie, mommy enjoyed it
nearly as much as I, though the farce at the end vastly shocked herâand, indeed, Tibbie, ât
was most indelicate, and made me blush a scarlet, and all the more that Sir William whispered
that he enjoyed the broad parts through my cheeksâand she says if dadda insists, weâll go
again, though not to stay to the farce. We had to sit in Lord Clowesâ boxâwhich sadly
affronted Captain André âand Sir William, who has hitherto kept himself muck secluded;
made his first appearance in public, and, as you wilt have inferred, visited our box during a
part of the performance, drawing all eyes upon us, which agitated me greatly. Dadda told him
I was learning to sketch, and nothing would do but I must give him an example, so on the
back of the play-bill I made a caricature of General Lee, which was extravagantly praised,
and was passed from hand to hand all over the house, and excited a titter wherever it went, for
the general was in attendance; but judge of my feelings, Tibbie, when an officer passed it to
Lee himself! He fell into a mighty rage, and demanded aloud to know who had thus insulted
him, and but for Lord Clowes and Sir William preventing me, Iâd have fled from the place, I
was in such a panic. Pray Heaven he never learn! I dare not repeat to thee half the civil things
which were said of this âsweet creature,â as they styled me, for fear thouâlt think me vain.
âAs thee is, I doubt not,â I hear thee say. Saucy Tibbie Drinker!â

At the very time that this account was being penned, some twenty miles away, a man was also writing, and a
paragraph in his letter read:â

âOur going into winter quarters, instead of keeping the field, can have been reprobated only
by those gentlemen who think soldiers are made of stocks and stones and equally insensible
to frost and snow; and, moreover, who conceived it easily practicable for an inferior army,
under the disadvantages we are known to labour under, to confine a superior one, in all
respects well appointed and provided for a winterâs campaign, within the city of Philadelphia,
and to cover from depredation and waste the States of Pennsylvania and Jersey. But what
makes this matter still more extraordinary in my eye is that those very gentlemenâwho well
know that the path of this army from Whitemarsh to Valley Forge might have been tracked by
the blood of footprints, and that not a boot or shoe had since been issued by the commissaries:
who are well apprised of the nakedness of the troops from ocular demonstration; whom I
myself informed of the fact that some brigades had been four days without meat, and were
unsupplied with the very straw to save them from sleeping on the bare earth floors of the huts,
so that one-third of this army should be in hospitals, if hospitals there were, and that even the
common soldiers had been forced to come to my quarters to make known their wants and

XLI WINTER QUARTERS 200

 suffering âshould think a winterâs campaign and the covering of these States from the
invasion of an enemy so easy and practical a business. I can assure those gentlemen that it is a
much easier and less distressing thing to draw remonstrances in a comfortable room by a
good fireside than to keep a cold, bleak hill and sleep under frost and snow without clothes or
blankets. However, although they seem to have little feeling for the naked and distressed
soldiers, I feel superabundantly for them, and from my soul I pity those miseries which it is
neither in my power to relieve nor prevent.

âIt is for these reasons that I dwelt upon the subject to Congress; and it adds not a little to my
other difficulties and distress to find that much more is expected of me than it is possible to
perform, the more that upon the ground of safety and policy I am obliged to conceal the true
state of this army from public view, and thereby expose myself to detraction and calumny.â

The letter completed, the man took up the tallow dip, and passed from the cramped, chilly room in which he
had sat to a still more cold and contracted hallway. Tiptoeing up a stairway, he paused a moment to listen at a
door, then entered.

âI heard your voice, Brereton, so knew you were waking. Well, Billy, how does the patient?â

âPohly, massa, pohly. De doctor say de kuânel âud do fus-class ef he only would nât wherrit so, but he do
nothinâ but toss anâ act rambunctious, anâ dat keep de wound fretted anâ him feverish.â

âAnd fret I will,â came a voice from the bed, âtill Iâve done with this feather-bed coddling and am allowed to
take my share of the work and privation.â

âNay, my boy,â said Washington, coming to the bedside and laying his hand kindly on Jackâs shoulder; âthere
is naught to be done, and you are well out of it. Give the wound its chance to heal.â

Brereton gave a flounce. âDo, in the name of mercy, Billy, get me a glass of water,â he begged querulously.
Then, after the black had departed, he asked: âWhat has Congress done?â

âThey have voted Gates president of the Board of War, with almost plenary powers.â

âA fit reward for his holding back until too late the troops that would have put us, and not the British, in
Philadelphia this winter. You wonât let their ill-treatment force you into a resignation, sir?â

âI have put my hand to the plough and shall neâer turn back. If I leave the cause, it will be by their act and not
mine.

âCongress may hamper and slight you, sir, but will not dare to supersede you, for very fear of their own
constituents. The people trust you, if the politicians donât.â

âSet your mind on more quieting things, Brereton,â advised Washington, taking the young fellowâs hand
affectionately. âMay you have a restful night.â

âOne favour before you go, your Excellency,â exclaimed Jack, as the general turned. âIâCould nâtâDoes
McLane still get his spies into the city?â

âAlmost daily.â

XLI WINTER QUARTERS 201

âCould heâWilt ask himâtoâto make inquiryâif possibleâof oneâconcerning Miss Janice Meredith, and let me
know how she fares?â

The general pressed the aideâs hand, and was opening his lips, when a figure, covered by a négligèe
night-gown of green silk, appeared at the door.

âIâve heard thee exciting John for the last half-hour, Mr. Washington,â she said upbraidingly. âI am amazed at
thy thoughtlessness.â

âNay, Patsy, I but stopped in to ask how he did and to bid him a good-night,â replied Washington, gently.

âA half-hour,â reiterated Mrs. Washington, sternly, âand now you still tarry.â

âOnly because you block the doorway, my dear,â said the husband, equably. âIf I delayed at all, ât was
because Brereton wished to set in train an inquiry concerning his sweetheart.â

âHis what?â exclaimed the dame. âLet me pass in, Mr. Washington. John must tell me all about her this
moment.â

âYou said he should sleep, Patsy,â replied the general, smiling. âCome to our room, my dear, and Iâll tell you
somewhat of her.â

But however much may have been told in the privacy of the connubial chamber, one fact was not stated: That
far back in the bottom drawer of the bureau in which Janice kept her clothes lay a half-finished silk purse, to
which not a stitch bad been added since the day that the muttering of the guns of Brandywine had sounded
through the streets of Philadelphia.

XLII
BARTER AND SALE
The first check to Janiceâs full enjoyment of the novel and delightful world into which she had plunged so
eagerly came early in March. âI have ill news for thee, my child,â Mr. Meredith apprised her, as he entered
the room where she was sitting. âI just parted from Mr. Loring, the Commissary of Prisoners, and he asked if
Philemon Hennion were not a friend of ours, and then told me that the deputy-commissary at Morristown writ
him last week that the lad had died of the putrid fever.â

âI am very sorry,â the girl said, with a genuine regret in her voice. âHeâI wishâI canât but feel that ât is
something for which I am to blame.â

âNay, donât lay reproach on yeself, Jan,â advised the father, little recking of what was in his daughterâs mind.
âIf we go to blaming ourselves for the results of well-considered conduct, there is no end to sorrow. But I fear
me his death will bring us a fresh difficulty. Weâll say nothing of the news to Lord Clowes, and trust that he
hear not of it; for once known, heâll probably begin teasing us to let him wed ye.â

âDadda!â cried Janice, âyou never wouldâwould give him encouragement? Oh, no, youâyou love me too
much.â

âYe know I love ye, Jan, and that whatever I do, I try to do my best for ye. Butââ

âThen donât give him any hope. Oh, dadda, if you knew how Iââ

XLII BARTER AND SALE 202

âHe âs not the man Iâd pick for ye, Jan, that I grant. Clowes isââ

âHe beguiled me shamefullyâand he broke his paroleâ and he takes mean advantage wheneâer he canâand he
crawls half the time and bullies the restâand when heâs polite he makes me shudder or grow coldâand when
heâsââ

âNow, donât fly into a flounce or a ferment till yeâve listened to what I have to say, child. âT isââ

âOh, dadda, no! Donâtââ

âHark to me, Janice, and then ye shall have all the speech ye wish. By this time, lass, ye are old enough to
know that life is not made up of doing what one wishes, but doing what one can or must. The future for us is
far blacker than I have chosen to paint to ye. Many of the British officers themselves now concede that the
subduing of the rebels will be a matter of years, and that ere it is accomplished, the English people may tire of
it; and though Iâll neâer believe that our good king will abandon to the rule and vengeance of the Whigs those
who have remained loyal to him, yet the outlook for the moment is darkened by the probability that France
will come to the assistance of the rebels. The Pennsylvania Assembly has before it an act of attainder and
forfeiture which will drive from the colony all those who have held by the king, and take from them their
lands; and as soon as the Jersey Assembly meets, it will no doubt do the same, and vote us into exile and
poverty. Even if my having taken no active part should save me from this fate, the future is scarce bettered,
for ât will take years for the country to recover from this war, and rents will remain unpaid. Nor is this the
depth of our difficulties. Already I am a debtor to the tune of nigh four hundred pounds to Lord Clowesââ

âDadda, no!â cried the girl. âDonât say it!â

âAy. Where didst thou suppose the money came from on which I lived in New York and all of us here? Didst
think thy gown came from heaven?â

âIâd have died sooner than owe it to him,â moaned Janice. âHow could you let me go to the expense?â

ââT was not to be avoided, Jan. As Sir Williamâs wish was that we should lend our countenance to the
festivities, ât would not have done to displeasure him, and since I was to be debtor to Lord Clowes, another
fifty pounds was not worth balking at. More still Iâll have to ask from him, I fear, ere we are safe out of this
wretched coil.â

âOh, prithee, dadda,â implored the girl, âdo not take another shilling. Iâll work my fingers to the boneâdo
anything ârather than be indebted to him!â

ââT is not to be helped, child. Think ye work is to be obtained at such a time, with hundreds in the city out of
employment and at the point of starvation? Thank your stars, rather, that we have a friend who not merely
gives us a shelter and food, but advances us cash enough to make us easy. Dost think I have not tried for
employment myself? Iâve been to merchant after merchant to beg even smouting work, and done the same to
the quartermasterâs and commissaryâs departments, but nothing wage-earning is to be had.â

ââT is horrible!â despairingly wailed Janice.

âThat it might be blacker can at least be said, and that is why I wish thee not to let thy feelings set too strongly
against Lord Clowes. Here âs a peer of England, Jan, with wealth as well, eager to wed thee. He is not what I
would have him, but it would be a load off my mind and off thy motherâs to feel that thy future at least is
made safe andââ

XLII BARTER AND SALE 203

âIâd die sooner than live such a future,â cried the girl. âI could not live with him!â

âYet ye ran off with this man.â

âBut then I did not know him as I know him now. You wonât force me, will you, dadda?â

âThat Iâll not; but act not impulsively, lass. Talk with thy mother, and view it from all sides. And meantime,
weâll hope heâll not hear of the poor ladâs death.â

Left alone by her father to digest this advice, Janice lapsed into a despondent attitude, while remarking: ââT is
horrible, and never could I bring myself to it. Starvation would be easier.â She sat a little time pondering;
then, getting her cloak, calash, and pattens, she set forth, the look of thought displaced by one of
determination. A hurried walk of a few squares brought her to the Franklin house, where she asked for
André.

âMiss Meredith,â cried the captain, as he appeared at the door, âthis is indeed an honour! But why tarry you
outside?â

âI fear me, Captain André, that I am doing a monstrous bold thing, and therefore will not enter, but beg of
you instead that you walk with me a little distance, for I am in a real difficulty and would ask your help.â

The officer caught up his hat and sword, and in a moment they were walking down Second Street. Several
times Janice unsuccessfully sought to begin her tale, but André finally had to come to her assistance.

âYou surely do not fear to trust me, Miss Meredith, and you cannot doubt the surety of assistance, if it be
within my power?â

For a moment the girlâs lips trembled; then she said,â Dost truly think the miniature frame I showed thee is
worth as much as five hundred pounds?â

âI think ât is, beyond doubt.â

âAnd dost thou think that thee couldst obtain four hundred pounds for it?â

âOf that I can scarce give assurance, for ât is a question whether a purchaser can be found for it. Yet I make
small doubt, Miss Meredith,â he added, âthat if you will leave your portrait in it, one man there is in
Philadelphia will gladly buy it at that price, though he run in debt to do it. If you desire to sell it, why do you
not offer it to Mobray?â

The girl had coloured with Andréâs first remark, and ere he had completed his speech, her cheeks were all
aglow. âIâ I could not offer it to him. Surely you can understand that ât would be impossible?â she
stammered.

âI suppose I am dull-witted not to know it,â said André, hurriedly, in evident desire to lessen her
embarrassment. âHowever, ât was but a suggestion, and if you desire to sell, I will gladly undertake to
negotiate it for you.â

âOh, will you?â cried the girl, eagerly. ââT will so greatly service me.â

Without more ado, she held out her hand, which contained the miniature, and after a second outburst of
thanks, quite unconscious of the fact that she was leaving him abruptly, she hurried away, not homeward, but

XLII BARTER AND SALE 204

in a direction which presently brought her to a house before which a sentry paced, where she stopped.

âIs Sir William within?â she asked of the uniformed servant who answered her knock; and when told that he
was, added: âWilt say that Miss Meredith begs speech with him?â

The servant showed her into the parlour, then passed into the room back of it, and Janice heard the murmur of
his words as he delivered her message.

âMiss Meredith,â cried a womanâs voice. âWhat does that puss want with you, Sir William?â

The bass of a masculine reply came to the visitorâs ears, though pitched too low for her to distinguish words.

âI know better than to take any manâs oath concerning that,â retorted the feminine speaker; and on the last
word the door was flung wider open, and a woman of full figure and of very pronounced beauty burst into the
room where the girl sat, closely followed, if not in fact pursued, by the British commander-in-chief. âWhat do
you want with Sir William?â she demanded.

Janice had risen, half in fright and half in courtesy; but the cry she uttered, even as the inquiry was put, was
significant of something more than either.

âWell,â went on the questioner, âart struck with a syncope that thou dost nothing but gape and stare at me?â

âI beg your pardon,â faltered the girl. âI recognisedâ that isâI mean, ât was thy painting thatââ

âMalapert!â shrieked the woman. âHow dare you say I paint! Dost have the vanity to think thou ârt the only
one with a red and white skin?â

âOh, indeed, madam,â gasped Janice, âI alluded not to thy painting and powdering, but to the miniature thatââ

âSir William,â screamed the dame, too furious even to heed the attempted explanation, âhow can you stand
there and hear this hussy thus insult me?â

âThen in Heavenâs name get back to the room from which you should neâer have come,â muttered Howe,
crossly.

âAnd leave you to the tête-à -tête you wish with this bold minx.â

âAy, leave me to learn why Miss Meredith honours me with this visit.â

âYou need not my absence, if that is all you wish to know. âT would be highly wrong to leave a miss,
however artful, unmatronised. Here I stay till I see cause to change my mind.â

Sir William said something below his breath with a manner suggestive of an oath, shrugged his shoulders, and
turned to Janice. âOld friends are not to be controlled, Miss Meredith,â he said, âand since we are to have a
third for our interview, let me make you known to each other. Mrs. Loring, Miss Meredith.â

âI pray you, madam, to believe,â entreated Janice, even as she made her curtsey, âthat you entirely
misinterpretedââ

âI care not what you meant,â broke in Mrs. Loring, without the pretence of returning the obeisance. âSay your
say to Sir William, and be gone.â

XLII BARTER AND SALE 205

âDamn you, Jane!â swore the general, bursting into a rage. âIf you cannot behave yourself I will call in the
servants and have you put from the room. Please be seated, Miss Meredith, and tell me in what manner I can
serve you.â

âI came, Sir William, to beg that you would give my father some position by which he could earn a living. We
are totally without money, and getting daily deeper in debt.â

âYour wish is a command,â replied Sir William, gallantly, âbut are you sure ât is best? Remember that the
moment your father takes position from me he commits himself far more in the cause than he has hitherto, and
the rebels are making it plain they intend to punish with the utmost severity all who take sides with us.â

âBut even that is better thanâthanâthan living on charity,â exclaimed Janice. âI assure you that anything is
betterââ

âEnough!â declared the general, as the girl hesitated. âYour father shall be gazetted one of the wardens of
abandoned property at once. âT will give him a salary and fees as well.â

âAh, Sir William, how can I ever thank you enough?â murmured the girl, feeling, indeed, as if an end had
come to her troubles. She made a deep curtsey to Mrs. Loring, a second to the general, and then took the hand
he offered her to the front door. âI beg, Sir William,â she said at parting, âthat you will assure Mrs. Loring
that I really did notââ

The general interrupted her with a laugh. âA man with an evil smell takes offence at every wrinkled nose,â he
asserted, âand you hit upon a subject on which my friend has perhaps cause to be sensitive.â

Janice ran rather than walked the whole way home, and, not stopping when she reached the house to tell her
father of her successful mission, or even to remove her cloak and calash, she tripped upstairs to her room,
went straight to her bureau, and, pulling open the bottom drawer, took from it the unset miniature, and
scrutinised it closely for a moment. ââT is she beyond question!â the girl ejaculated. âAnd I always thought of
her as a young female, never suspecting it might have been some time painted. Why, she is a good ten years
older than Colonel Brereton, or at least eight, let alone that she paints and powders! If that is the ill-mannered
creature he gave his love to, I have little pity for him.â

This decided, the maiden sought out her father and informed him of her mission and its successful result.

âWhy, Jan,â exclaimed her father, âthou ârt indeed a wonderful lass to have schemed and carried it through.
Iâd have spoken to Sir William myself, but he keeps himself so secluded that never a chance have I had to
speak to him save in public. It is for the best, however, for I doubt not he paid more heed to thy young lips
than ever he would to mine. Hadst thou told me, however, I would have gone with thee, for it must have been
a tax on thy courage to have ventured alone.â

I did nât even let myself think of it,â replied the daughter, âand, indeed, ât was so much easier than the
thought of your further increasing your debt to Lord Clowes that ât was nothing.â Then, after a slight pause,
she asked: âDadda, who is the Mrs. Loring I found at Sir Williamâs?â

âHumph!â grunted the squire, with obvious annoyance. ââT is the wife of Joshua Loring, commissary of
prisoners.â

âHas she been long married to him?â asked Janice.

âThat I know not; and the less ye concern yourself, Jan, with her, the better.â

XLII BARTER AND SALE 206

Despite this recommendation, Janice once again repeated her question, this time making it to André at the
Assembly that evening.

âI know not,â the captain told her, pursing up his lips and raising his eyebrows. Then he called to his opposite
in the quadrille: âCathcart, can you tell me how long Mrs. Loring has rejoiced in that title of honour?â

The earl laughed as if André had said something witty, and made reply: âSince ever I can remember, and
that is a full five years.â

When later the dancers adjourned to the supper-room, Lord Cathcart tossed a billet across the table to
André, and he in turn passed it to Mobray, who was squiring Janice. The baronet held it so that she could
see the message as well, and inscribed on the paper were the lines:â

âYour question donât think me a moment ignoring:

âHow long has she honoured the surname of Loring?â
Wiseacre, first tell, how a man without honour
Could ever confer that fair jewel upon her?â

Sir Frederick, before handing it back, took Janiceâs pencil from her dancing-card, and scribbled on the back of
the quip:â

âThe answer is plain, for by means of her face,

The lady secured him an honourable place.
In return for the favour, by clergy and vow,
She made sure of her honour, but who knows when or Howe?â

And from that interchange of epigrams Janice asked no further questions relative to Mrs. Loring, unless it
might be of herself.

XLIII
A CHOICE OF EVILS
At this ball Janice was gladdened by word from André that he had effected the sale of the miniature, though
he maintained absolute silence as to who the purchaser was, nor did she choose to inquire. The next morning
brought a packet from him containing a rouleau of guineas, and so soon as they were counted, the girl hurried
to the room on the ground floor which the commissary had taken as a half office, and, after an apology for the
unannounced intrusion, said,â

âYou have been good enough, Lord Clowes, to favour us with sundry loans, for which we can never be
grateful enough, but ât is now in our power to repay them.â

âPay me!â cried the baron, incredulously.

âYes,â replied Janice, laying down the pile of gold on the desk. âWilt tell me the exact amount?â

The guineas were too indisputable for Clowes to question the girlâs ability to carry out her intention, but he
demanded, âHow came you by such a sum of gold?â

ââT isâThat concerns thee not,â replied the girl, with spirit.

XLIII A CHOICE OF EVILS 207

âAnd does thy father know?â

âI ask you, Lord Clowes,â Janice responded, âto tell me the amount we owe you.â

For a moment the officer sat with a scowl on his face, then suddenly he threw it off, and with a hearty,
friendly manner said: âNay, Miss Meredith, think naught of it. You âre welcome ten times over to the money,
and what more ye shall ever need.â He rose as he spoke, and held out his hand toward the girl. âGenerosity is
not the monopoly of razorless youngsters of twenty.â

Janice, ignoring the hand, said: âOnce again, Lord Clowes, I ask you to inform me of the amount of our debt,
which if you will not tell me, you will force me to leave all the money.â

The angry frown returned to the commissaryâs face, and all the reply he made was to touch a bell. âTell Mr.
Meredith I would have word with him in my office,â he said to the servant. Then he turned to Janice and
remarked, âIf ye insist on knowing the amount, ât is as well that your father give it to ye, since clearly ye trust
me in nothing.â

âOh, Lord Clowes,â begged Janice, âwilt thou not let me pay this without calling in dadda? IâI acted without
first speaking to him, and I fear meââ There her words were cut short by the entrance of the squire.

âI sent for ye, man, to help us unsnarl a coil. Your daughter insists on repaying the money I have loaned ye,
and I thought it best ye should be witness to the transaction.â As he ended he pointed to the pile of coin.

âOdds bodikins!â exclaimed Mr. Meredith, as his eye followed the motion. âAnd where got ye such a sum,
Jan?â

âOh, dadda,â faltered the girl, âât is a long story, of which I promise to make you a full narration, once we are
alone, though I fear me you will think that I have done wrong. But, meantime, will you not tell me how much
you owe Lord Clowes, and let me pay him? Believe me, the money is honestly come by.â

âNo doubt, no doubt,â said the commissary, with a rough laugh. âYoung macaronis are oft known to give girls
hundreds of pounds and get nothing in return.â

All the reply Janice made was to go to the door. âWhenever you will come to the parlour, dadda, you shall
know all, but I will not stay here to endure such speeches.â

Without thought of the gold, Mr. Meredith was hurrying after his daughter, when Clowes interrupted him.

âThe explanation is simple enough, Meredith,â he said, âand I cannot but take it in bad part that your maid
should borrow of Mobray in order to repay my loan to you.â

âI cannot believe that that is the explanation, Clowes,â protested Mr. Meredith. âBut if it is, be assured that the
money shall be returned him, and we will still stand your debtors.â Then he sought his daughter, and she
poured out to him the whole story of the miniature.

âWrong I may have been, dadda, to have taken it to begin with, but Colonel Brereton refused to receive it
from me, and when he himself placed it about my picture, I could not but feel that it had truly become mine,
and that I could dispose of it.â

âBut who bought it of ye, Jan?â inquired the parent.

XLIII A CHOICE OF EVILS 208

âThat I know not,â said the girl, though hesitating and colouring at the question in her own mind whether she
were not prevaricating, for Andréâs face and her own suspicions had really convinced her who was the
nameless buyer. âCaptain André assured me that the frame was fully worth five hundred pounds.â

âThat I will not gainsay, lass,â replied the squire, âand the only blame I will lay on ye is that ye did not
consult me before acting, for I could have negotiated it as well, and should have so managed as not to have
offended Clowes. However, I make no doubt heâll not hold rancour when he knows that the money came by
the sale of a piece of jewelry, and was not merely borrowed. Did ye take your picture from the frame?â

âNo, dadda. I did so once before, only to bring suspicion on myself; so this time I let it remain.â

âYe might as well have removed it,â said Mr. Meredith, âfor it could have added no money value to it.â Yet
the squire had once been a lover, and should have known otherwise. This said, he returned to Clowes, and
sought to mollify him by a statement of how the money had been obtained.

âHumph!â grunted the baron. âSheâd better have brought the trinket to me, for Iâd gladly have been the
purchaser, for more even than she got by it.â

âI told the lass she should have left the sale of it to me,â answered the squire, âbut ye know what women are.â

âEgad, I sometimes think, shallow as the sex is, no man fully knows that. However, we will waste no further
parley on the matter. Put the money in your purse, man, for your future needs, and think naught about the debt
to me.â

âNay, Clowes. Since the money is here, ât is as well to pay up.â And protest and argue as the commissary
would, nothing would do the squire but to count out the amount on the spot from the heap of guineas, and to
pocket, not without some satisfaction, the small surplus that remained. Then he left the room in great good
cheer; but for some time after he was gone, the baron, leaving the gold piled on the table, paced the room in
an evident fit of temper, while muttering to himself and occasionally shaking his head threateningly.

The gazetting of Mr. Meredith served only to increase this half-stifled anger, and on the very evening his
appointment was announced in the âPennsylvania Ledger,â the commissary recurred to his proposal.

âI heard by chance to-day that young Hennion had fallen a victim to the camp fever,â he told the squire, âand
only held my tongue before the ladies through not wishing to be the reporter of bad tidingsâthough, as I
understood it, neither Mrs. Meredith nor Miss Janice really wished the match.â

The father took time over a swallow of Madeira, then said: ââT is a grievous end for the good lad.â

âAy, though I am not hypocrite enough to pretend that it affects me save for its freeing of your daughter, and
so removing the one objection ye made to my taking her to wife.â

Once more the squire gained a momentâs breathing space over his wine before he replied: âYe know, Clowes,
that Iâd willingly give ye the girl, but I find that she will have none of it, and ât is a matter on which I choose
not to force her inclination.â

âWell said; and I am the last man to wish an unwilling spouse,â responded the aspirant. âBut ye know
womenâs ways enough not to be their dupes. In truth, having no stability of mind, the sex resemble a ship
without a rudder, veering with every shift of the wind, and never sailing two days alike. But put a man at the
helm, and they steer as straight a course as could be wished. Janice was hot to wed me once, and though she
took affront later because she held me responsible for her punishment, yet she herself owned, but a few weeks

XLIII A CHOICE OF EVILS 209

ago, that she was still bound to me, which shows how little her moods mean. Having your consent secured, it
will take me but a brief wooing to gain hers, that ye shall see.â

âWell,â rejoined Mr. Meredith, âsheâs now old enough to know her own mind, and if ye can win her assent to
your suit, mine shall not be lacking. But ât is for ye to do that.â

âSpoken like a true friend, and here âs my hand on it,â declared the commissary. âBut there is one matter in
which I wish ye to put an interfering finger, not so much to aid me as to save the maid from hazard. That
fopling Mobray is buzzing about her and pilfering all the sweets that can be had short of matrimonyââ

âNay, Clowes, heâs no intriguer against my lass, that I am bound to say. âT was only this morning, the
moment he had news of Hennionâs death, he came to me like a man, to ask permission to address her.â

âHo, heâs deeper bitten by her charms than I thought! retorted the suitor. âOr, on second thought, more like ât
is a last desperate leap to save himself from ruin. Let me warn ye that he has enough paper out to beggar him
thrice over, and ât is only a question of time ere his creditors come down on him and force him to sell his
commission; after which he must sink into beggary.â

âI sorrow to hear it. He âs a likely lad, and has kindly stood us in stead more than once.â

âAnd just because of his taking parts, he is likely to keep your girlâs heart in a state of incertitude, for ât is
only mortal for eighteen to fancy twenty more than forty-four. Therefore, unless ye want a gambling bankrupt
for a son-in-law, give him his marching orders.â

âIâll not do that after his kindness to my wife and child; but Iâll take good care to warn Janice.â

âLook that ye donât only make him the more interesting to her. Girls of her age think little of where the next
meal is to come from, and dote on the young prodigal.â

âHave no fear on that score,â replied the father.

On the morning following this conversation Janice was stopped by the commissary as she was passing his
office. âWill ye give me the honour of your presence within for a moment?â he requested. âI have something
of import to say to ye.â

With a little trepidation the girl entered, and took the seat he placed for her.

Taking a standing position at a respectful distance, Lord Clowes without circumlocution plunged at once into
the object of the interview. âThat I have long wished ye for my wife, Miss Meredith,â he said with frank
bluffness, âis scarce worth repeating. That in one or two instances I have given ye cause to blame or doubt
me, I am full conscious; ât is not in man, I fear, to love such beauty, grace, and elegance, and keep his blood
ever within bounds. âT was this led me to suggest our elopement, and to my effort to bind ye to the troth. In
both of these I erred, and now crave a pardon. Ye can scarce hold me guilty that my love made me hot for the
quickest marriage I could compass, or that, believing ye in honour pledged to me, I should seek to assure
myself of the plight from your own lips, ungenerous though it was at the moment. It has since been my
endeavour to show that I regretted my impulsive persecution, and I trust that my long forbearance and
self-effacement have proved to ye that your comfort and happiness are the first object of my heart.â

âYou have been very good to us all,â answered Janice, âand I would that I were able to repay in full measure
all we owe to you. Butââ

XLIII A CHOICE OF EVILS 210

âYe can, and by one word,â interjected the suitor.

âBut, Lord Clowes,â she continued, with a voice that trembled a little, âI cannot yield to thy wish. Censurable
I know myself to beâand no one can upbraid me more than I upbraid myselfâyet between the two wrongs I
must choose, and ât is better for both of us that I break the implied promise, entered into at a moment when I
was scarce myself than to make a new one which I know to be false from the beginning, and impossible to
fulfil.â

âOf the old promise we will say naught, Miss Meredith,â replied the baron. âIf your sense of right and wrong
absolve ye, Baron Clowes is not the man to insist upon it. But there is still a future that ye must not overlook.
âT will be years, if ever, ere ye once again enjoy your property, and though this appointmentâwhich is like to
prove dear-boughtâfor the moment enables ye to face the world, it is but a short-lived dependence. To ye I
will confide what is as yet known to but a half-dozen: his Majesty has accepted Sir William resignation, and
he leaves us so soon as Sir Henry Clinton arrives. The new commander will have his own set of hungry
hangers-on to provide with places, and your fatherâs days will be numbered. In my own help I shall be as
unstinting as in the past, but it is quite on the cards that I, too, lose my appointment, in which case I shall
return to England. Would not a marriage with me makeââ

âBut I love you not,â broke in Janice.

âYe have fallen in love with thatââ

âI love no one, Lord Clowes; and indeed begin to fear that I was born without a heart.â

âThen your objection is that of a very young girl who knows nothing of the world. Miss Meredith, the women
who marry for love are rare indeed, and but few of them fail of a bitter disappointment. I cannot hope that my
arguments will convince ye of this, but counsel with your parents, and yeâll find they bear me out. On the one
side stands eventual penury and perhaps violence for ye all; on the other, marriage with a man who, whatever
his faults, loves ye hotly, who will give ye a title and wealth, and who will see to it that your parents want for
nothing. âT is an alternative that few women would hesitate over, but I ask no answer now, and would rather
that ye give none till ye have taken consideration upon it.â

Janice rose. âIâI will talk with dadda and mommy,â she said, âand learn their wishes.â But even as she spoke
the words a slight shiver unsteadied her voice.

XLIV
A CARTEL OF EXCHANGE
After Janice left him the commissary-general mounted a horse, and, riding to the Franklin house, asked for
Captain Mobray. âI have called, sir,â he announced, as the baronet entered the room, âon two mattersââ

âHave they to do with the service, my Lord?â interrupted Mobray; âfor otherwise I must declineââ

âFirst,â the caller went on unheedingly, âa number of past-due bills of yours have come into my possession in
exchange for special victuals or stores, and I wish to learn your intention concerning them.â

âIâ In truthâIââ haltingly began Sir Frederick, his face losing colour as he spoke. âI have had the devilâs turn
of luck of late, andâand I am not in a position to take them up at the moment. I trust that youâll give me time,
and not press me too harshly.â

XLIV A CARTEL OF EXCHANGE 211

With a smile that expressed irony qualified by enjoyment, the creditor replied: ââT is a pleasure to aid a man
to whom I am indebted for so much courtesy.â

Sir Frederickâs ashen hue changed to a ruddy one, as he said: âLord Clowes, ât is a bitter mouthful for a man
to eat, but I ask your clemency till my luck changes, for change it must, since cards and dice cannot always
run against one. I know I deserve it not at your hands, after what has passedââ

âCease your stuttering, man,â ordered the commissary. âHad I revenge in my heart Iâd have sent the bailiff
not come myself. The bills shall wait your convenience, and all I ask for the lenience is that ye dine with me
and do me one service. Ye did me a bad stroke with Miss Meredith; now I ask ye to offset it by telling her
what my vengeance has been.â

Mobray hesitated. âLord Clowes, I will do nothing to trick Miss Meredith, desperately placed as I am.â

âChut! Who talks of trickery? Ye told her the facts of my parole; therefore ye owe it to me, even though it
may not serve your own suit, to tell her as well what is in my favour.â

âAnd so help you to win her. I cannot do her that wrong, my Lord.â

âIs it worse to tell her only the truth about me than to seek to persuade her into a marriage with a bankrupt?â

âYou state it unsparingly.â

âNot more so, I doubt not, than ye did the matter of my paroleâwhich some day I shall be able to justify, and
the gentlemen of the army will then sing a very altered tuneâ with this difference, that I say it to your face and
ye did not.â

With bowed head Sir Frederick answered: âYou are right, my Lord, and I will say what I can in your favour to
Miss Meredith.â

âSpoke like an honest man. Fare ye well till next Wednesday, when I shall look for ye to a three-oâclock
dinner.â

Whatever pain and shame the words cost him, honourably the baronet fulfilled his promise by going to the
commissaryâs quarters the following day and telling Janice the facts. The girl listened to his explanation with
a face grave almost to sadness. âIâWhat you have told me, Sir Frederick,â she said gently at the end, âis of
much importance to me just at this time, and I thank you.â

âI know, I know,â groaned the young officer, miserably, âand ât is only part of my horrible run of luck that I
shouldâthatâahâTake him, Miss Meredith, and end my torture.â

âCan you advise me to marry Lord Clowes?â

âAfter his generosity to me, in honour I must say nothing against him, but ât is asking too much of human
nature for me to aid his suit.â

[Illustration: âArt comfortable, Janice?â]

âIâoh, I know not what to do!â despairingly wailed the girl. âMommy says ât is for me to decide, and dadda
thinks I cannot do better, and to the ear it seems indeed the only thing to do. Yet I shudder every time I think
of it, and twice, when I have dreamed that I was his wife, I have waked the whole house with my screams to

XLIV A CARTEL OF EXCHANGE 212

be saved from him.â

âMiss Meredith,â burst out the baronet, âgive me the right to save you. You know I love you to desperation;
that I would live to make youââ

âAh, pray, Sir Frederick,â begged Janice, âdo not add to my pain and difficulty. What you wishââ

âI crave a pardon for my words. âT was a momentâs selfish forgetfulness of you and of my own position, that
shall not occur again.â Mobray stooped and kissed a loose end of the handkerchief the girl held, and hurried
from the room.

As he was catching up his cloak and sabre in the hallway, the door of the office opened. âCome in here a
moment, Sir Frederick,â requested the commissary.

âI have done as I promised, and that is all I can do at the moment,â almost sobbed the young fellow. âNor will
I dine here Wednesday, though you do your worst.â

âTush! Do as ye please as to that, but come in here now, for I have a thing to say that concerns Miss
Meredithâs happiness.â

âAnd what is that?â demanded the baronet, as he entered.

âI see by the G. O. that ye are named one of the commissioners to arrange a cartel of exchange with the rebels
at Germantown to-day.â

âWould to God it were to arrange a battle in which I might fall!â

ââT is likely lists of prisoners will be shown, and should ye chance to see the name of Leftenant Hennion on
any of those handed in by the rebels I recommend that ye do not advertise the fact when ye return to
Philadelphia.â

âBut the fellowâs dead.â

âYe have been long enough in the service to know that some die whose names never get on any return, and so
some are reported dead who decline to be buried. Let us not beat about the bush as to what I mean. We are
each doing our best to obtain possession of this lovely creature, but the father holds to his promise to the
long-legged noodle, and, if he is alive, our suits are hopeless. So let them continue to suppose himââ

âMine is so already,â groaned Mobray. âBut if ât were not, I would not filch a womanâs love by means of a
deceit. Norââ

âFudge! Hear me through. The girl has always hated the match, which was one of her old fool of a fatherâs
conceiving, and will thank any one who saves her from the fellow. Let her say nay to us both, and it please
her, but donât force her to a marriage of compulsion by needless blabbing.â

âI will hold my peace, if that seems best for Miss Meredith; not otherwise, my Lord,â answered Mobray,
flinging from the room.

The baronet mounted his horse, and, stabbing his spurs into him, galloped madly down Market Street, and
then up Second Street to where it forked into two country roads. Here the lines of British fortifications
intersected it, and a picket of cavalry forced the rider to draw rein and show his pass. This done, he rode on,

XLIV A CARTEL OF EXCHANGE 213

though at a more easy pace, and an hour later entered the village of Germantown. In front of the Roebuck Inn
a guidon, from which depended a white flag, had been thrust into the ground, and grouped about the door of
the tavern was a small party of Continental light horse. Trotting up to them, Mobray dismounted, and, after an
inquiry and a request to one of them to take his horse, he entered the public room. To its one occupant, who
was seated before the fire, he said: âThe dragoons outside told me the rebâthe Continental commissioners
were here. Canst tell me where they are to be found, fellow?â

The person addressed rose from his seat, revealing clothes so soiled and tattered, and a pair of long boots of
such shabby appearance, as to give him the semblance of some runaway prentice or bond-servant, but over his
shoulder passed a green ribbon and sword sash which marked their wearer as a field officer; and as the
baronet realised this he removed his hat and bowed.

âSince when did you take to calling your superior officers âfellows,â Sir Frederick?â asked the other,
laughing.

With a cry of recognition, Mobray sprang forward, his hand outstretched. âCharlie!â he exclaimed. âHeavens,
man, we have made a joke in the army of the appearance of thy troops, but I never thought to see the exquisite
of the Mall in clothes not fit for a tinker.â

âMy name, Fred, is John Brereton,â corrected the officer, âwhich is a change for the better, I think you will
own. As for my clothes, Iâll better them, too, if Congress ever gives us enough pay to do more than keep life
in us. Owing to depreciation, a leftenant-colonel is allowed to starve at present on the equivalent of
twenty-five dollars, specie, a month.â

âAnd yet you go on serving such masters,â burst out Mobray. âCome over to us, CharlâJohn. Sir William
would give youââ

âEnough,â interrupted Brereton, angrily. âFor how long, Sir Frederick, have you deemed me capable of
treachery?â

ââT is no treachery to leave this unnatural rebellion and take sides with our good king.â

âSuch talk is idle, and you should know it, Mobray. A word with you ere Grayson and Boudinotâwho have
gone to look at that marplot house of Cliveden which frustrated all our hopes four months sinceâreturn and
interrupt us. I last saw you at the Meredithsâ; can you give me word of them?â

âOnly ill ones, alas!â answered the captain. âTheir necessities are such that I fear me they are on the point of
giving their daughter to that unutterable scoundrel, Clowes.â

Jack started as if he had been stung. âYou cannot mean that, man! We sent you word he had broke his parole.â

âAy,â replied the baronet, flushing. âAnd let me tell you, John, that scarce an officer failed to go to Sir
William and beg him to send the cur back to you.â

âAnd you mean that Mr. Meredith can seriously intend to give Miss Janice to such a creature?â

âI fear ât is as good as decided. You know the man, and how he gets his way, curse him!â

âIâd do more than that, could I but get into Philadelphia,â declared Jack, hotly. âBy heavens, Fredââ

XLIV A CARTEL OF EXCHANGE 214

But here the entrance of other officers interrupted them, and Colonel Brereton was set to introducing Boudinot
and Grayson to the British officer.

Scarcely had they been made known to each other when Mobrayâs fellow-commissioners, Colonel OâHara
and Colonel Stevens, with a detail of dragoons, came trotting up; and so soon as credentials were exchanged
the six sat down about a table in a private room to discuss the matter which had brought them together. One of
the first acts of Mobray was to ask for a look at the Continental lists of prisoners; and after a hurried glance
through them, he turned and said to Brereton in a low voice: âWe had word in Philadelphia that Leftenant
Hennion died of a fever.â

ââT is a false rumour,â replied Brereton. âIf I could Iâd see that he failed of an exchange till the end of the
war; and I would that one of our officers in your hands could be kept by you for an equal term.â

âWho is that?â asked Mobray.

âThat rascal, Charles Lee,â muttered Brereton. âBut, though he openly schemed against General Washington,
and sought to supersede him, his Excellency is above resentment, and has instructed us to obtain his exchange
among the first.â

In the arrangement of details of the cartel Brereton showed himself curiously variable, at times sitting
completely abstracted from what was being discussed, and then suddenly entering into the discussions, only to
compel an entire going over of points already deemed settled, and raising difficulties which involved much
waste of time.

âConfound it!â said OâHara presently, after a glance at his watch. âAt this rate we shall have to take a second
day to it.â

âBeyond question,â assented Jack, with a suggestion of eagerness. âGentlemen, I invite you to dinner, and
there are good sleeping-rooms above.â

ââT is out of the question,â replied Stevens. âWe officers give a masked ball in the city to-night, and I am one
of the managers."

âWell, then,â urged Brereton, âat least stay and dine with me at three, and you shall be free to leave by six. âT
is not much over an hourâs ride to the city.â

âThat weâll do with pleasure,â assented OâHara.

âGo on with the discussion, then, while I speak to the landlord,â remarked Jack, rising and passing to the
kitchen. âWe wish a dinner for six,â he informed the publican, âby three oâclockâ Then in a low voice he
continued: âAnd hark you! One thing I wish done that is peculiar. Give us such whiskey as we call for of thy
best, with lemons and sugar, but in place of hot water in the kettle, see to it that as often as it is replenished, it
be filled with thy newest and palest rum. Understand?â

âJerusalem!â ejaculated mine host. âYou gentlemen of the army must have swingeing strong heads to dilute
whiskey with raw rum.â

âI trust not,â replied the aide, drily.

When dinner was announced Brereton drew Grayson aside for a moment and whispered: ââT is a matter of
life and death to me that these fellows be made too drunk to ride, Will, yet to keep sober myself. Youâve got

XLIV A CARTEL OF EXCHANGE 215

the head and stomach of a ditcher; wilt make a sacrifice of yourself for my sake?â

âAnd but deem it sport,â replied Grayson, with a laugh; and as he took his place at the table he remarked:
âGentlemen, we have tested British valour, we have tested British. courtesy, and found them not wanting, but
we understand that, though you turn not your backs to either our soldiery or our ladies, there is one thing
which can make you tremble, and that is our good corn whiskey.â

âOdds life!â cried OâHara, âwho has so libelled us? Man, weâd start three glasses ahead of you, and then
drink you under the table, on a challenge, but for this ball that we are due at.â

âA pretty brag,â scoffed Brereton, âsince you have an excuse to avoid its test. But come, we have three good
hours; but drink Grayson even in that time, and I will warrant youâll not be able to sit your horses. Come, fill
up your glasses from decanter and kettle, and I will give you a toast to begin, to which you must drink
bumpers. Here âs to the soldier who fights and loves, and may he never lack for either.â

Four hours later, when Brereton rose from the table, Stevens and OâHara were lying on the floor, Boudinot
was fallen forward, his head resting among the dishes on the table, fast asleep, and Mobray and Grayson,
clasped in each otherâs arms, were reeling forth different ditties under the impression that they were singing
the same song. Tiptoeing from the room, the aide went to the kitchen door and said to the publican, âOrder
one of the dragoons to make ready Captain Mobrayâs horse, as he wishes to ride back to Philadelphia.â In the
passageway he took from the hook the hat, cloak, and sword of the young officer, and, removing his own sash
and sabre, donned the three. Stealing back to the scene of the revel, he found Mobray and Grayson now lying
on the floor as well, unconscious, though still affectionately holding each other. Kneeling gently, he searched
the pockets of the unconscious man until the passport was lighted upon. Thrusting it into his belt, he stole
from the room.

âWhat are the orders for us, sir?â asked the dragoon who held Mobrayâs horse, as the aide mounted.

With an almost perfect imitation of the baronetâs voice, Brereton answered, âColonel O'Hara will issue
directions later,â and then as he cantered down the road he added gleefully: âConsiderably later. What luck
that it should be Fred, whose voice I know so well that I can do it to the life whenever I choose!â Then he
laughed with a note of deviltry. âI am popping my head into a noose,â he said; âbut whether ât is that of
hangman or matrimony, time only will show.â

XLV
IN THE JAWS OF THE LION
The ball had been in full progress for an hour when a masker, who from his entrance had stood leaning against
the wall, suddenly left his isolated position and walked up to one of the ladies.

âConceal your face and figure as you will, Miss Meredith, you cannot conceal your grace. Wilt honour me
with this quadrille?â

âLa, Sir Frederick! That you should know me, and I never dream it was you!â exclaimed the girl, as she gave
her hand and let him lead her to where the figures were being formed. âThere have been many guesses among
the caps as to the identity of him who has held himself so aloof, but not a one suggested you. The disguise
makes you look a good three inches taller.â

As they took position a feminine domino came boldly across the room to them. âIs this the way you keep your
word, Sir William?â she demanded in a low voice, made harsh and grating by the fury it expressed.

XLV IN THE JAWS OF THE LION 216

âYou mistake me, madam,â answered the dancer, âthough I would such a rapid promotion were a possibility.â

The interloper made a startled step backward. âI have watched you for a quarter hour,â she exclaimed, as she
turned away, âand would have sworn to your figure.â

ââT is wonderful,â remarked Janice, âhow deceiving a domino can be.â

The dance ended, her partner said: âMiss Meredith, I have something to say to you of deepest consequence.
Will you not come away from this crowd?â

âAh, Sir Frederick,â pleaded the girl, âdo not recur to it again. Though you importune me for a day, I could
but make the same reply.â

âSir Frederick passes his word that he will not tease you on that subject to-night; but speak I must concerning
this match with Lord Clowes.â

ââT is in vain, sir,â replied Janice; âfor every moment convinces me the more that I must wed him, and so you
will but make my duty the harder.â

âI beg you to give me a word apart, for I have a message to you from Colonel Brereton.â

Janiceâs hand dropped from the officerâs arm. âWhat is it?â she asked.

ââT is not to be given here,â urged the man. âI pray you to let me order your equipage and take you away.
Another dance will be beginning on the moment, and some one will claim you.â

The girl raised her hand and once more placed it on her partnerâs arm; taking the motion as a consent to his
wishes, the officer led her to the doorway.

âCall Miss Meredithâs chair,â he ordered of the guard grouped about the outer door, and in a moment was
able to hand her into the vehicle.

âWhere to?â he asked. âI meanâHome!â he cried, in a far louder voice, as if to drown the slip, at the same
moment jumping in and taking his seat beside her.

As he did so, the girl shrank away from him toward her corner of the gig. âWho are you?â she cried in a
frightened voice.

âWho should I be but John Brereton?â

âAre you mad,â cried the girl, âto thus venture within the lines?â

âThe news which brought me was enough to make me so,â answered Jack. âYou cannot know what you are
doing that you so much as think of marrying that scum. For years he has been nothing but a spy and mackerel,
willing to do the dirtiest work, and the scorn of every decent man in London, as here. Are you, are your father
and mother, are your friends, all Bedlam-crazed that you even consider it?â

ââT is as horrible to me as it is to you,â moaned Janice; âbut it seems the only thing possible. Oh, Colonel
Brereton, if you but knew our straits,âdependent for all we have, and with a future still more desperate,âyou
would not blame me for anything I am doing.â The girl broke into sobs as she ended, and turning from him
leaned her head against the leathern curtain, where she wept, regardless of the fact that the aide possessed

XLV IN THE JAWS OF THE LION 217

himself of her hand, and tried to comfort her, until the chaise drew up at its destination. Lifting rather than
helping her from the carriage, Jack supported the maiden up the steps and into the hallway; but no sooner
were they there than she freed herself from his supporting arm and exclaimed, âYou must not stay here. Any
instant you might be discovered.â

âThen take me to a room where we can be safe for a moment. I shall not leave you till I have said my say.â

âAh, please!â begged the girl. âSome one is like to enter even now.â

Jackâs only reply was to turn to the first door and throw it open. Finding that all was dark within, he caught
Miss Meredithâs fingers, and drew her in after him, saying, as he did so, âHere we are safe, and you can tell
me truly of your difficulties.â

With her hand held in both of the aideâs, Janice began a disconnected outpouring of the tale of her difficulties
intermixed by an occasional sob, caused quite as much by the officerâs exclamations of sympathy as by the
misery of her position. Before a half of it had been spoken one of the hands grasping hers loosened itself, and
she was gently drawn by an encircling arm till her head could find support on his shoulder; not resenting and
indeed, scarcely conscious of the clasp, she rested it there with a strange sense of comfort and security.

âAlas!â grieved Brereton, when all had been told, âI am as deep, if not deeper, in poverty than you, and so I
can give you no aid in money. Bad as things are, however, there is better possible than selling yourself to that
worm, if you will but take it.â

âWhat?â

âThe French have come to our aid at last, and are sending us a fleet. If Howe will but be as slow as usual, and
the States but hasten their levies, we shall catch him between the fleet and army and Burgoyne him. Even if he
act quickly, he can save himself only by abandoning Philadelphia and consolidating his forces at New York.
They may then fight on, for both the strength and the weakness of the British is a natural stupidity which
prevents them from knowing when they are beaten, but all doubt as to the outcome will be over. Once more it
will be possible for you to dwell at Greenwood, if you will butââ

âBut dadda says they will take it away and exile us,â broke in Janice.

âI have no doubt the rag-tag politicians, if not too busy scheming how to cripple General Washington, will set
to on some such piece of folly, for by their persecutions and acts of outlawry and escheatage they have driven
into Toryism enough to almost offset the Whigs the British plundering has made. But from this you can be
saved if you will but let me.â As the officer ended, the clasp of his arm tightened, though it lost no element of
the caress.

âHow?â

âI stand well in the cause; and though I could not, I fear, save your property to you, they would never take it
once it were in Whig hands, and so by a marriage to me you can secure it. Ah, Miss Meredith, you have said
you do not love me, and I stand here to-night a beggar, save for the sword I wear; but I love you as never man
loved woman before, and my life shall be given to tenderness and care for you. Surely your own home with
me is better than exile with that cur! And Iâll make you love me! Iâll woo you till I win you, my sweet, if it
take a life to do it.â Raising the hand he held, the aide kissed it fondly. âI know Iâve given you reason to think
me disrespectful and rough; I know I have the devilâs own temper; but if Iâve caused you pain at moments,
Iâve suffered tenfold in the recollection. Can you not forgive me?â Once again he eagerly caressed her hand;
and finding that she offered no resistance to the endearments, Jack, with an inarticulate cry of delight, stooped

XLV IN THE JAWS OF THE LION 218

and pressed his lips to her cheek.

On the instant Janice felt a hand laid on her shoulders, then on her head, as if some one were feeling of her.

âWho is this?â demanded Jack, lifting his head with a start.

The question was scarce uttered when the sound of a blow came to the girlâs ears, and the arm which had been
supporting her relaxed its hold, as the lover sank rather than fell to the floor. With loud screams the girl
staggered backward, groping her way blindly in the dark. There came the sound of feet hurrying down the
hallway, and the door was thrown open by one of the men servants, revealing, by the shaft of light which
came through it, the figure of Jack stretched on the floor, with the commissary kneeling upon him, engaged in
binding his wrists with a handkerchief.

âOut to the stables, and get me a guard!â ordered Lord Clowes. âI have a spy captured here. No; first light
those candles from the lamp in the hall. I advise ye, Miss Meredith,â he said scoffingly, âthat next time ye
arrange an assignation with a lover that ye take the precaution to assure yourself that the room is unoccupied.â

âOh, Lord Clowes,â implored the girl, âwonât you let him go for my sake?â

âThat plea is the least likely of any to gain your wish,â responded the baron, derisively.

âI will promise that I will never wed him, will never see him again,â offered Janice.

âOf that I can give ye assurance,â retorted the commissary, rising and picking up from where he had dropped
it the horse pistol with which he had stunned the unconscious man. âA drum-head court-martial will sit not
later than to-morrow morning, Miss Meredith, and there will be one less rebel in the world ere nightfall. Your
promise is a fairly safe one to make. Here,â he continued, as the soldiers came running into the room, âfetch a
pail of water and douse it over this fellow, for I want to carry him before Sir William. Ye were wise not to
remove your wraps, Miss Meredith, for I shall have to ask your company as well.â

When the aide was sufficiently conscious to be able to stand, he was put between two of the soldiers, and ten
minutes later the whole party reached the house of the commander-in-chief. Given entrance, without waiting
to have their arrival announced, the commissary led the way through the parlour into the back room, where,
about a supper table, the British commander, Mrs. Loring, and two officers were sitting.

âYe must pardon this intrusion, Sir William,â explained Lord Clowes, as Howe, in surprise, faced about, âbut
we have just caught a spy red-handed, and an important one at that, being none less than Colonel Brereton, an
aide of Mr. Washington. Bring him forward, sergeant.â

As Jack was led into the strong light, Mrs. Loring started to her feet with a scream, echoed by an exclamation
of âBy God!â from one of the officers, while the three or four glasses at Howeâs place were noisily swept into
a jumble by the impulsive swing of the generalâs arm as he threw himself backward and rested against the
table.

âCharlie, Charlie!â cried Mrs. Loring. âYou here?â

Standing rigidly erect, the aide said coldly, âMy name is John Brereton; nor have I the honour of your
acquaintance.â

âWhatâs to do here?â ejaculated Lord Clowes. âI know the man to be what he says, and that he has come in
disguise within our lines to spy.â

XLV IN THE JAWS OF THE LION 219

Without looking at the commissary, Jack answered: âI wore no disguise when I passed through your lines, nor
have I for a moment laid aside my uniform.â

âCall ye those rags a uniform?â jeered the commissary.

Howe gave a hearty laugh. âWhy, yes, baron,â he answered. âKnow you not the rebel colours by this time?â

âAnd how about the domino he wears over them, and the mask I hold in my hand?â contended Lord Clowes.

âI procured them this evening at the Franklin house in Second Street, as you will learn by sending some one to
inquire, merely to attend the ball.â

A second exclamation broke from Mrs. Loring: âThen ât was you I mistook forâSir William, I thought ât was
you from his figure.â

Again the general laughed. âHo, Loring,â said he to one of the officers. âWhat say you to that?â

âTake and hang me, or send me to the pest hole you kill your prisoners in, but let me get away from here,â
raged Jack, white with passion, as he gave a futile wrench in an attempt to free his hands.

âArt so anxious to be hanged, boy?â

ââT is a fit end to a life begun as mine was!â answered the aide.

âOh, Sir William,â spoke up Janice,â he did not come to spy, but only to see me. You will not hang him for
that, surely?"

âYoicks! Must you snare, even into the hangmanâs noose, every one that looks but at you, Miss Janice? If the
day ever comes when the innocent no longer swing for the guilty, ât is you will be hung.â

âWe lose time over this badinage, Sir William,â complained the commissary, angrily. âThe fellow is a spy
without question.â

âHe is not,â cried Mrs. Loring; âand he shall not even be a prisoner. You will not hold him, Sir William, when
he came but to see the maid he loves?â

âCome, sir,â said the general. âWilt ask thy life of me?â

âNo. And be damned to you!â

âYou see, Jane.â

âI care not what he says; you shall let him go free.â

âAre ye all mad?â fumed the commissary.

âHe ever had the art of getting the women on his side, Clowes,â laughed Sir William, good-naturedly. âHow
the dear creatures love a man of fire! Look you, boy, with such a friend as Mrs. Loringâto say nothing of
othersâno limit can be set to your advancement, if you will but put foolish pride in your pocket, and throw in
your lot with us.â

XLV IN THE JAWS OF THE LION 220

âIâd sooner starve with Washington than feast with you.â

âThat âs easily done!â remarked Loring, jeeringly.

âNot so easily as in your prisons,â retorted Jack.

âDonât be foolish and stick to your tantrums, lad,â persuaded Howe.

âIs a man foolish who elects to stick to the winning side? For you are beaten, Sir William, and none know it
better than you."

âDamn thy tongue!â roared Howe, springing up.

âDonât blame him for it, William,â cried Mrs. Loring. âHow can he be other than a lad of spirit?â

Howe fell back into his seat. âThere ât is again. Ah, gentlemen, the sex beat us in the end! Well, Jane, since
thou ât commander-in-chief, please issue thy orders.â

âSet him free at once."

âWe can scarce do that, though weâll not hang him as a spy, lest all the caps go into mourning. Commissary
Loring, he is yours; we will hold him as a prisoner of war.â

âDo that and you must answer for it,â said Jack. âYou can hang me as a spy, if you choose, but yesterday I
rode into Germantown under a flag of truce, and on your own pass, as one of the commissioners of exchange.
What word will you send to General Washington if you attempt to hold me prisoner?â

âWell done!â exclaimed Howe. âOne would almost think it had been prearranged. Release his arms, sergeant.
Loring, let the boy have a horse and a pass to Germantown. I rely on your honour, sir, that you take no
advantage of what you have seen or heard within our lines.â

Jack bowed assent without a word.

âAnd now, sir, that you are free,â went on Sir William, âhave you no thanks for us?â

âNot one.â

âAh, Charlie,â begged Mrs. Loring, âjust a single word of forgiveness.â

Without a sign to show he heard her, Jack went to Janice and took her hand. âDonât forget my pledge. Save
you I can, if you will but let me.â He stooped his head slightly and hesitated for a moment, his eyes fixed on
her lips, then he kissed her hand.

And as he did so, Mrs. Loring burst into tears. âYou are killing me by your cruelty,â she cried.

âAh, Colonel Brereton, say something kind to her!â begged the girl, impulsively.

Wheeling about, Jack strode forward, till he stood beside the woman. âThis scoundrel,â he began, indicating
Clowes with a contemptuous gesture, âis seeking to force Miss Meredith into a marriage: save her from that,
and the wrong you did me is atoned.â

XLV IN THE JAWS OF THE LION 221

âI will; I will!â replied Mrs. Loring, lifting her head eagerly. âIâllâAh, Charlie, one kissâjust one to show that
I am forgivenâNo, not for that,â she hurriedly added, as the aide drew backââto showâfor what I will do for
her. Everything I can I willâJust one.â

For an instant Brereton hesitated, then bent his head; and the woman, with a cry of joy, threw her arms about
his neck, and kissed him not once, but five or six times, and would have continued but for his removing her
hands and stepping backward.

âCome, sir,â, said Loring, irritably, âif the whole army is not to have wind of this, follow me. Daybreak is not
far away, and you should be in the saddle.â

The aide once more went to Janice, and would have again taken her hand; but the girl shrank away, and turned
her back upon him.

âOne farewell,â pleaded Jack.

âYou have had it,â replied Janice, without turning.

âAy. Be off with you,â seconded Howe, and without a word Brereton followed Loring from the room.

As the front door banged, and ere any one had spoken, the thunder of a cannon sounded loud and clear, and at
short intervals other booms succeeded, as if the first was echoing repeatedly. But the trained ear of the general
was not deceived.

ââT is the water battery saluting,â he said, rising. âSo Sir Henry Clinton has evidently arrived. Come,
gentlemen, ât is only courteous that we meet him at the landing.â

XLVI
THE FAREWELL TO HOWE
In the movement that ensued, Janice slipped into the hallway, and in a moment she was scurrying along the
street, so busy with her thoughts that she forgot the satin slippers which had hitherto been so carefully saved
from the pavements. She had not gone a square when the sound of footsteps behind her made the girl quicken
her pace; but instantly the pursuer accelerated his, and, really alarmed, Janice broke into a run which ended
only as she darted up the steps of her home, where she seized the knocker and banged wildly. Before any one
had been roused within, the man stood beside her, and with his first word the fugitive recognised Lord
Clowes.

âI meant not to frighten ye,â he said; âbut ye should not have come away alone, for there are pretty desperate
knaves stealing about, and had ye encountered the patrol, ye would have been taken to the provost-marshal for
carrying no lantern.â

Relieved to know who it was, but too breathless to make reply, Janice leaned against the lintel until a sleepy
soldier gave them entrance. There was a further delay while Lord Clowes ignited a dip from the lamp and
lighted her to the stairway. Here he handed it to her, but retaining his own hold, so as to prevent her departing,
he saidâ

âI lost my temper at hearing that young scamp make such ardent love, and so I spoke harshly to ye. Canst not
make allowance for a loverâs jealousy?â

XLVI THE FAREWELL TO HOWE 222

âPlease let me have the light.â

[Illustration: âWhere is that paper?â]

âWhether ye pardon me or no, of one thing I am sure,â went on Clowes, still holding the candle, âye are not so
love-sick of this rogue as to overlook his seeking the aid of his discarded mistress in his suit of ye. I noted
your look as she kissed him.â

ââT is not a subject I choose to discuss with you, nor is it one for any gentlewoman,â said Janice, dropping her
hold on the candle and starting upstairs. At the top she paused long enough to say, âNor do I trust your
version,â and then hurried to her room and bolted the door.

Here, dark as it was, she went straight to the bureau, and pulling open the bottom drawer fumbled about in it.
Her hands presently encountered the unfinished purse, and for a moment they closed on it, while something
resembling a sob escaped her. But with one hand she continued searching; and so soon as her groping put her
fingers on the miniature of Mrs. Loring she rose, and feeling the way to a window, she opened it and threw
out the slip of ivory. The girl made a motion as if to send the purse after it, but checked the impulse, and
forgetting to close the window, and without a thought of her once treasured gown, she threw herself on the
bed, and began to sob miserably. Before many minutes, worn out with excitement, fatigue, and the lateness,
she fell asleep, but it was only to dream uneasily over the nightâs doings, in which all was a confused jumble,
save for the eager tones of her loverâs voice as he pleaded his suit, the sight of him as he lay on the floor after
the candles had been lighted, and, finally, the look in his eyes as he made his farewell. Yet no sooner did these
recur than they were succeeded by that of Mrs. Loringâs eager and passionate kissing of Brereton, and each
time this served to bring Janice back into a half-awake condition.

After breakfast the next morning, as she was pretendedly reading Racineâs âIphigénie,â lest her mother
should find her doing nothing and order her to some task, a letter was handed her by one of the servants, with
word that it had been brought by a soldier; and breaking the seal, Janice read:

My deer child

pleas do forgiv al i spoke to yu a bout the furst time i see yu for i did not understan it at al i
was dredful up set bi last nite and feel mitey pukish this mawning, but i hope yu will cum to
see me soon for i want much to tawk with yu a bout how i can help yu and to kiss and hugg
yu for yu ar so prity that i shud lov just to tuck yu lik sum one else did yu see how his eys
lovd yu when he was going a way he yused to look that way at me and i cried mitey hard al
nite at his krulty pleas cum soon to unhapy

Jane Loring.

ps. i shal cum to yu if yu dont cum quick

âThere is no answer,â the maiden told the servant; then, as he went to the door she added, âAnd should a Mrs.
Loring wish to see me, you will refuse me to her.â

Left alone, Janice went to the fireplace, in which the advance of spring no longer made a fire necessary, and,
taking from its niche the tinder box, she struck flint on steel, and in a moment had a blaze started. Not waiting
to let it gain headway, she laid the letter upon the flame, and held it there with the tongs till it ignited. âI knew
without your telling me,â she said, âthat he no longer loved you, and great wonder it is, considering your age,
that he ever could.â

XLVI THE FAREWELL TO HOWE 223

âHast turned fire-worshipper?â demanded Andréâs voice, merrily, as she still knelt, âfor if so, ât will be
glad news for the sparks.â

The girl sprang to her feet. âIâI was just burning a âaâsome rubbish,â she answered.

âHere I am, not in the lionâs den, but in the jackalâs, and my stay must be brief. Canst detect that I am big
with news?â

âOf what?ââ

âThis morning Sir Henry Clinton arrived, and for the first time the army learns that Sir William has resigned
his command, and is leaving us. The field officers wish to mark his departure by a farewell fête in his
honour, and as it would be a mockery without the ladies, we are appealing to them to aid us. We plan to have
a tourney of knights, each of whom is to have a damsel who shall reward him with a favour at the end of the
contest. I have bespoken fair Peggy for mine, and I am sure Mobray, who is not yet returned, will ask you.
Wilt help us?â

âGladly,â assented Janice, eagerly, âif dadda will let me.â

âI met him in High Street on my way here, made my plea, and, though at first he pulled a negative look, when
I reminded him he owed Sir William for a good place, he relented and said you could.â

âAnd what am I to do?â

âYou are to be gowned in a Turkish costume, in theââ

âNay, Captain Andréâ replied Janice, shaking her head, âwe are too poor to spend any money in such
manner.â

âThink you the knights are so lacking in chivalry that we could permit our guests to pay? The subscription is
large enough to cover all expenses, the stuffs are already purchased, and all you will have to do is to make
them up in the manner of this sketch.â

âThen I accept with pleasure and thanks.â

ââT is we owe the thanks. And now farewell, for I have much to do.â

âCaptain André,â said the girl, as he opened the door, âI have a questionâWilt answer me something?â

âNeed you ask?â

âI suppose ât is a peculiar one, and soâDo youâis it generally thought byâDo the gentlemen of the army deem
Mrs. Loring beautiful?â

âToo handsome for the good of ourâof the army.â

âEven though she paints and powders?â

âBut in London and Paris ât is the mode.â

âI think ât is a horrid custom.â

XLVI THE FAREWELL TO HOWE 224

âAnd so would every woman had she but thy cheeks. Ah, Miss Meredith, ât is easy for the maid whose tints
are a daily toast at the messes to blame those to whom nature has not given a transparent skin and mantling
blood.â

When Mobray returned from Germantown, he at once sought out Janice and confirmed Andréâs action.
Though he found her working on the costume, it was with so melancholy a countenance that he demanded the
cause.

âT is what you know already,â moaned the girl, miserably. âLord Clowes is pressing me for an answer, and
now dadda is urgent that I give him ay.â

âWhy?â

âHe went to see Sir Henry, and had so cold a reception that he thinks ât is certain he is to lose his place, let
alone the report that General Clinton was heard to say Sir Williamâs friends were to be got rid of. What can
we do?â

âBut CharâBrereton assured me he had spoked the fellowâs wheel by securing the aid ofââ

ââT is naught to me what he has done,â interrupted Janice, proudly; ânor did I give him the right to intervene.â

âYou must not give yourself to Clowes. âT isâahâ rather than see that Iâll speak out.â

âAbout what?â

âLeftenant Hennion is not dead! âT was but another of Clowesâ lies, and your father shall know it, let him do
his worst.â Without giving his courage time to cool, the young fellow dashed across the hallway to the office
where the commissary and squire were sitting, and announced: âNews, Mr. Meredith. Leftenant Hennion is
alive, for his name was on the rebel lists of prisoners to be exchanged.â

âOddsbodikins!â ejaculated the squire. âHere âs an upset, Clowes, to all our talk.â

âYeâll not be fool enough to let it make any difference,â growled the baron, his eyes resting on Mobray with a
look that boded no good. âYeâll only increase your difficulties by holding to that old folly.â

âNay, Clowes, Lambert Meredith neâer broke his word to any man, and, God helping, he never will.â

With a real struggle, the commissary held his anger in check. âIâll talk of this later,â he said, after a pause,
âwhen I can speak less warmly than now I feel. As for ye, sir,â he said, facing Mobray, âI will endeavourâthe
favour ye have done shall not be forgotten.â

âTake what revenge you please, my Lord,â replied Mobray, his voice shaking a little none the less, âI have
done what as a gentleman I was compelled to do, and am ready for the consequences, be they what they may.â

âA fit return for my lenience,â remarked Clowes to the squire after Sir Frederick had made his exit. âHe has
long owed me money, for which I have never pressed him, yet now he would have it that if I but ask payment,
ât is revenge.â

One result of Mobrayâs outbreak was to give Janice another knight for the pageant.

XLVI THE FAREWELL TO HOWE 225

ââT is a crying shame,â André told her; âbut poor Fred has gone to the wall at last, and is to be sold up.
Therefore he chooses to withdraw from the tourney, and begs me to make his apologies to you, for he is too
dumpish to wish to see any one. âT will make no difference to you, save that you will have Brigade Major
Tarleton in place of the baronet.â

âCan nothing be done for him?â asked Janice.

âBe assured, if anything could be, his fellow-officers would not have allowed the army to lose him, for he is
loved by every man in the service; but he is in for over eight thousand pounds.â

ââT is very sad,â sighed Janice. âI thought him a man of property,â she added aloud, while to herself she said,
âThen it could not have been he who bought my miniature.â

âNay, he was sometimes in funds by his winnings, but he long since scattered his patrimony.â

Janiceâs letter to Tabitha had long before, by its length, become in truth a journal, and to its pages were
confided an account of the farewell fête to the British general:â

ââThe Mischianza,â as ât is styled; Tibbie, began at four o clock in the afternoon with a grand
regatta, all the galleys and flatboats being covered with awnings and dressed out with colours
and streamers, making a most elegant spectacle. The embarkation took place at the upper end
of the city, mommy and I entering the âHussarâ which bore Sir William Howe. Preceded by
the music boats, the full length of the town we were rowed, whilst every ship was decked
with flags and ensigns, and the shores were crowded with spectators, who joined in âGod
save the Kingâ when the bands played it; and the âRoebuckâ frigate fired a royal salute.
About six we drew up opposite the Wharton house, and landing, made our way between files
of troops and sailors to a triumphal arch that ushered to an amphitheatre which had been
erected for the guests, of whom, Tibbie, but four hundred were invited. Behind these seats
spectators not to be numbered darked the whole plain around; held in check by a strong guard
which controlled their curiosity. The fourteen knightsâ ladies (selected, Tibbie, so ât was
given out, as the fore-most in youth, beauty, and fashion, and into a fine frenzy it threw those
maids who were not asked) were seated in the front, and though ât is not for me to say it, we
made a most pleasing display. Our costume was fancy, and consisted of gauze turbans,
spangled and edged with gold and silver, on the right side of which a veil of the same hung as
low as the waist, and the left side of the turban was enriched with pearls and tassels of gold or
silver, crested with a feather. The jacket was of the polonaise kind; of white silk with long
sleeves, and sashes worn around the waist tied with a large bow on the left side, hung very
low and trimmed, spangled; and fringed according to the colours of the knight. But, wilt
believe it, Tibbie, instead of skirts, ât was loose trousers, gathered at the ankle, we wore, and
a fine to-do mommy made at first over the idea, till dadda said I might do as the other girls
did; though indeed, Tibbie, ât is to be confessed I felt monstrous strange, and scarce enjoyed a
dance through thought of them. And here let me relate that this was the ostensible reason for
Mr. Shippen refusing to allow Margaret and Sarah to take part after they had their gowns
made (and werenât they dancing mad at being forbid!), but ât is more shrewdly suspected that
ât was because of a rumour (which no thinking person credits) that Philadelphia is to be
evacuated, and so, being a man of no opinions, he chose not to risk offending the Whigs.

âOnce seated; the combined bands of the army sounded a very loud and animated march,
which was the signal for the beginning of the ceremony of the carousel. The seven knights of
The Blended Rose, most marvellously dressed in a costume of the Henry IV. period of France
(which, being so beyond description, I have endeavoured a sketch), on white horses, preceded

XLVI THE FAREWELL TO HOWE 226

 by a herald and three trumpeters, entered the quadrangle, and by proclamation asserted that
the ladies of The Blended Rose excelled in wit, beauty, and accomplishment those of the
whole world, and challenged any knight to dispute it. Thereupon appeared the seven knights
of The Burning Mountain, and by their herald announced that they would disprove by arms
the vainglorious assertions of the knights of The Blended Rose and show that the ladies of
The Burning Mountain as far excelled all others in charms as the knights themselves
surpassed all others in prowess. Upon this a glove of defiance was thrown, the esquires
presented their knights with their lances, the signal for the charge was sounded, and the
conflict ensued, until on a second signal they fell back, leaving but their chiefs in single
combat. These fighting furiously, were Presently parted by the judges of the field, with the
announcement that they were of equal valour, and their ladies of equal beauty. Forming in
single file, they advanced and saluted, and a finish was put to this part of the entertainment.

âWe now retired to the house for tea, where the knights, having dismounted, followed us, and
paid homage to their fair ones, from each of whom they received a favour. The ball then
succeeded, which lasted till nine, when the company distributed themselves at the windows
and doors to view fireworks of marvellous beauty, ending with a grand illumination of the
arch. More dancing then occupied us, till we were summoned to supper, which was served in
a saloon one hundred and eighty feet long, gaily painted and decorated; and made brilliant by
a great number of lustres hung from the roof, while looking-glasses, chandeliers, and
girandoles decked the walls, the whole enlivened by garlands of flowers and festoons of silk
and ribbons. Here we were waited upon by twenty-four negroes in blue and white turbans and
party-coloured clothes and sashes, whilst the most pathetic music was performed by a
concealed band. Toasts to the king and queen, the royal family, the army and navy, with their
respective commanders, the knights and their ladies, and the ladies in general, were drunk in
succession, each followed by a flourish of music, when once again the dancing was resumed,
and lasted till the orb of day intruded his presence upon us.

âSir William left us at noon to-day, regretted by the whole army, and, as I write this, I can
hear a salute of guns in honour of Sir Henry Clintonâs assuming the command. Pray Heaven
he does not remove dadda.

âAt last I know, Tibbie, what court life must be like.â

Three days after the departure of Howe, the squire came into dinner, a paper in hand, and with a beaming face.
âFine news!â he observed. âI am not to be displaced.â

âGood!â cried the commissary, while Janice clapped her hands. âI spoke to Sir Henry strongly in your favour,
and am joyed to hear that it has borne fruit.â

âHow dost thou know, Lambert?â asked Mrs. Meredith.

âI have here an order to load the âRoseâ tender with such rebel property as the commissaries shall designate,
and superintend its removal to New York. They âd neâer employ me on so long a job, were I marked to lose
my employment, eh, Clowes?â

âWell reasoned. For ât is not merely a task of time, but one of confidence. But look ye, man, if ye âre indeed
to make a voyage to York and back, which will likely take a month, ât is best that we settle this question of
marriage ere ye go. Iâve given Miss Janice time, I think yeâll grant, and ât will be an advantage in your
absence that she and Mrs. Meredith have one bound to protect them.â

XLVI THE FAREWELL TO HOWE 227

âIâd say ay in a moment, Clowes, but for my word to Hennion.â

ââT is a promise thou shouldst neâer have made, and which it is now thy every interest to be quit of, let alone
that ât is so distasteful to thy daughter.â

âA promise is a promise,â answered the father, with an obstinate motion of head.

âAnd a fool âs a fool,â retorted Clowes, losing his temper. âIn counsel and aid Iâve done my best for ye; now
go your gait, and see what comes of it.â

A week later, Mr. Meredith bade farewell to wife and daughter.

âI wish you were nât going, dadda,â Janice moaned. ââT is so akin to last summer that it frights me.â

âNay, lass, be grateful that I have the job to do, and that with good winds I shall return within a fortnight.
Clowes has passed his word that ye shall want for nothing. Iâll be back ere ye know Iâve gone.â

There was a good cause, however, for the girlâs fear of the future, for in less than a week from her fatherâs
sailing, on every street corner, in every tavern, and in every drawing-room of the town the news that
Philadelphia was to be evacuated was being eagerly and anxiously discussed.

XLVII
THE EVACUATION
Confirmation of the rumour, so far as Mrs. Meredith and Janice were concerned, was first received through
the commissary.

âAy,â he told them, when questioned; âât was decided at a council of war the very day Howe left us, and that
was why we at once began transferring our stores and the seized property to New York, one cargo of which
your husband was put in charge. âT will tax our shipping to the utmost to save it all.â

âBut why didst thou not warn us, so that we might have embarked with him?â asked Mrs. Meredith.

ââT was a military secret to be told to no one.â

âCan dadda return ere the evacuation begins?â

ââT is scarce possible, even if his orders permit it.â

âThen what are we to do?â

âThou hadst best apply at once to the deputy quartermaster-general for transports.â

Mrs. Meredith acted on this advice the following day, but without success.

âThink you the kingâs ships and transports have naught to do but act as packet-boats for you Americans?â the
deputy asked. âHundreds of applications have been filed already, and not another one will we receive. If you
âd for New York, hire a passage in a private ship.â

XLVII THE EVACUATION 228

This was easier to recommend than to do, for such was the frantic demand for accommodation that the prices
had been raised to exorbitant figures, quite beyond their means. So appeal was made once more to Clowes.

ââT is something of a quandary,â he remarked; âbut there is a simple way out.â

âWhat?â

âIâd have saved ye all worry over the matter but that I wished ye to learn the difficulties. I have never made
pretence to doing favours out of mere kindness of heart, and ye know quite as well as I why I have given ye
lodging and other aids. But for that very reason I am getting wearied of doing all and receiving nothing, and
have come to the end. Give me Miss Janice, and my wife and mother shall have passage in the ship I sail in.â

âYou take a poor way, Lord Clowes, to gain your wish,â said Janice. âGenerosityââ

âHas had a six monthsâ trial, and brought me no nearer to a consummation,â interrupted the baron. âSmall
wonder I sicken of it and lose patience.â

ââT is not to be expected that I would let Janice wed thee when her father has given thee nay.â

âBecause he has passed his word to another, and so holds himself bound. He said heâd consent but for that,
and by acting in his absence ye can save him a broken oath, yet do the sensible thing. Heâll be glad enough
once done; that Iâll tie to.â

âIt scarce betters it in a moral sense,â replied Mrs. Meredith. âHowever, we will not answer till we have had a
chance to discuss it by ourselves.â

âJanice,â said her mother, once they were alone, âthy dread of that man is a just one, and Iââ

âI knowâI know,â broke in the daughter, miserably; âbut Iâif I can make us all easy as to money and futureââ

âThose are but worldly benefits, child.â

âBut, mommy,â said the girl, chokingly, as she knelt at her motherâs feet and threw her arms about Mrs.
Meredithâs waist, âsince live we must, what can we do butâbutâOh, would that I had never been born!â and
then the girl buried her head in her motherâs lap.

ââT is most unseemly, child, to speak so. God has put us here to punish and chasten us for Adamâs sin; and ât
is not for us, who sinned in him, to question His infinite wisdom.â

âThen I wish He âd tell me what it is my duty to do!â lamented Janice.

âThinkest thou he has nothing to do but take thought of thy affairs?â

âWouldst have me marry him, mommy?â asked the girl, chokingly.

âLet us talk no further now, child, but take a nightâs thought over it.â

They were engaged in discussing the problem the following afternoon, when Lieutenant Hennion burst in
upon them.

XLVII THE EVACUATION 229

âWhy, Phil!â cried Mrs. Meredith; and Janice, springing from her chair, met him half-way with outstretched
hand, while exclaiming, âOh, Mr. Hennion, ât is indeed good to see an old friendâs face.â

ââT is glad tidings ter me ter hearn you say that,â declared Philemon, eagerly. âYestereâen General Lee and
the other rebel prisoners came out from Philadelphia, and we, having been brought from Morristown some
days ago, were at once set at liberty; but ât was too late ter come in, so we waited for daylight. I only reported
at quarters, and then, learning where you lodged, I comeâI came straight terâto find how you fared.â

Alternating explanation and commentary, the women told of their difficulties.

âI canât aid you to get aboard one of the ships, for Iâve had ter draw my full pay all the time I was prisoner,
the rebels nigh starving us, let alone freezing, so money âs as scarce with me as with you. But Iâll go terâto
my colonel, and see if I canât get permission that you may go with our baggage train.â

ââT will be a benefit indeed, if you can do that,â exclaimed Mrs. Meredith.

âThen Iâll not tarry now, but be off about it at once, for there was a rumour at brigade headquarters that three
regiments had been ordered across the river this afternoon, and that it meant a quick movement.â He picked
up his hat as if to go, then paused, and haltingly continued, âI hope, JaâJaâ Janice, that youâve come terâto
likeânot to be so set against what I wants so much. It âs nigh a year since I seenâ saw you last, but it âs only
made me love you the better.â

The girl, with a look of real contrition, answered, âOh, Mr. Hennion, do not forceââT would be wrong to us
both if I deceived you.â

âYou canât love me?â

âIâoh, I believe I am a giddy, perverse female, for I seem able to care for no man.â

âThe world Iâd give ter win you, Janice; but Iâll not tease you now, the more that I can be doing you a service,
and that âs joy enough.â

Philemon went toward the door; but ere he had reached it Janice had overtaken him and seized his hand in
both of hers. âYou deserve to love a better maid,â she said huskily, âand I wish you might; but perhaps ât will
be some comfort to you to know that dadda holds to his promise, andâand that I am less wilful and more
obedient, I hope, than once I was.â

As Philemon opened his mouth to make reply, he was cut short by the entrance of the commissary, who halted
and frowned as he took in the hand-clasp of the two.

âHumph!â he muttered, and then louder remarked, âYet another! Yeâll be pleased to know, sir, that Miss
Meredithâs favours mean little. But a month since I caught that fellow Brereton regaling himself with her
lips.â

âThatâs a lie, I know,â retorted Philemon, angrily; but as he glanced at the girl and saw her crimson, he
exclaimed, âYou just said you cared for no man!â

âItâit was at a moment when I scarce knew what I didâ faltered Janice, âandâandânow I would not be kissed
by him for anything in the world. IâI amâI was honest in what I said to you, Philemon.â

XLVII THE EVACUATION 230

âIâll believe anything you say, Janice,â impulsively replied the lieutenant, as with unprecedented boldness he
raised her hand to his lips. Then facing Clowes he said: âAnd I advise you ter have a care how you speak of
Miss Meredith. Iâll not brook hearing her aspersed.â With this threat he left the room.

âI regret to have been an intruder on so tender a scene,â sneered the commissary; âbut I came with
information that was too important to delay. Orders have been issued that all ships make ready to drop down
the river with the tide at daybreak to-morrow, and ât is said that the army will begin its march across the
Jerseys but a twenty-four hours later. So there is no time to lose if ye wish to sail with me. The marriage must
take place by candle-light this evening, and we must embark immediately after.â

âPhilemon has promised us his aid, Lord Clowes,â replied Mrs. Meredith, âand so we need not trouble thee.â

âHennion! But he must go with his regiment.â

âHe offers us a place in the baggage train.â

âEvidently he has not seen the general orders. Clinton is too good an officer to so encumber himself; and the
orders are strict that only the women of the regiments be permitted to march with the army. I take it ye scarce
wish to class yourselves with them, however much it might delight the soldiery.â

âThey could scarce treat us worse than thee, Lord Clowes,â said Mrs. Meredith, indignantly. âNor do I believe
that even the rank and file would take such advantage of two helpless women as thou art seeking to do.â

âTush! I may state it oâer plainly; but my intention is merely to make clear for your own good that ye have no
other option but that I offer ye.â

âAny insults would be easier to bear than yours,â declared Janice, indignantly; âand theirs would be for once,
while yours are unending.â

âSuch folly is enough to make one forswear the whole sex,â the commissary angrily replied. âNor am I the
man to put up with such womanish humoursomeness. âIâve stood your caprice till my patience is exhausted;
now Iâll teach ye whatââ

âHeyday!â exclaimed André, as a servant threw open the door and ushered him in. âWhat have we here? I
trust I am not mal apropos?â

âFar from it,â spoke up Janice. âAnd thou ârt welcome.â

âI come laden with grief and with messages,â said André, completely ignoring Clowesâ presence. âMr.
Hennion, whom I met at headquarters, asked me to tell you his request was refused, that his regiment was
even then embarking to cross the Delaware, and that therefore he could not return, whatever his wish. The
Twenty-sixth is under orders to follow at daybreak to-morrow, and so we plan an impromptu farewell supper
this evening at my quarters. Will you forgive such brief notice and help to cheer our sorrow with your
presence?â

âWith more than pleasure,â assented Mrs. Meredith; âand if ât will not trouble thee, we will avail ourselves of
thy escort even now.â

âWould that such trouble were commoner!â responded André, holding open the door.

âThen weâll get our coverings without delay.â

XLVII THE EVACUATION 231

Lord Clowes, with a deepened scowl on his face, intercepted them at the door. âOne word in private with
these ladies,â he said to the captain. Then, as André with a bow passed out first, he continued, to the
women: âI have warned ye that we must be aboard ship ere ten. Refuse me my will, and yeâll not be able to
rejoin Mr. Meredith. Take my offer, or remain in the city.â

âWe shall remain,â responded Mrs. Meredith.

âWith your husband a warden of the seized property of the rebels, and known to have carried away a ship-load
of it? Let me warn ye that the rebels whom we drove out of Philadelphia will be in no sweet mood when they
return and find what we have destroyed or carried off. Hast heard how the Bostonians treated Captain
Fentonâs wife and fifteen-year-old daughter? Gentlewomen though they were, the mob pulled them out of
their house, stripped them naked in the public streets, smeared them with tar and feathers, and then walked
them as a spectacle through the town. And Fenton had done far less to make himself hated than Mr. Meredith.
Consider their fate, and decide if marriage with me is the greater evil.â

âEvery word thou hast spoken, Lord Clowes,â replied Mrs. Meredith, âhas tended to make us think so.â

âThen may you reap the full measure of your folly,â raged the commissary.

âCome, Janice,â said her mother; and the two, without a parting word, left him. Once upstairs, Janice flung
her arms about Mrs. Meredithâs neck.

âOh, mother,â she cried, âplease, please forgive me! I have ever thought you hard and stern to me, but now I
know you are not.â

Strive as those at the supper might, they could not make it a merry meal. The officers, with a sense of defeat at
heart, and feeling that they were abandoning those who had shown them only kindness, had double cause to
feel depressed, while the ladies, without knowledge of what the future might contain, could not but be
anxious, try their all. And as if these were not spectres enough at the feast, a question of Mrs. Meredith as to
Mobray added one more gloomy shadow.

âFred? alas!â one of the officers replied. âHe was sold out, and the poor fellow was lodged in the debtorsâ
prison, as you know. As we chose not to have them fall into the hands of the rebels, a general jail delivery was
ordered this morning, which set him at large.â

âAnd what became of him?â asked Janice.

âWould that I could learn!â groaned André. âAs soon as I was off duty, I sought for him, but he was not to
be heard of, go to whom I would. Bah! No more of this graveyard talk. Come, Miss Meredith, Iâll give you
the subject for a historical painting. I found of Franklinâs possessions not a little which took my fancy, and
such of it as I chose I carry with me to New York, as fair spoil of war. Prithee, draw a picture of the old fox as
he will appear when he hears of his loss. âT will at least give him the opportunity to prove himself the
âphilosopherâ he is said to be. I have taken his oil portrait, and when I get fit quarters again I shall hang it, and
nightly pray that I may live long enough to do the same to the original. Heaven save me if ever I be captured,
though, for I make little doubt that in his rage he would accord me the very fate I wish for him!â

When at last the eveningâs festivities, if such they might be termed, were over, it was André, preceded by a
couple of soldiers with lanterns, who escorted them back to their home, and at Janiceâs request he ordered the
two men to remain in the now deserted house.

XLVII THE EVACUATION 232

âThey must leave you before daybreak,â the officer warned them; âbut they will assure you a quiet night. I
would that you were safe in New York, however, and shall rest uneasy till I welcome you there. Ladies, you
have made many an hour happier to John André,â ended the young officer, his voice breaking slightly.
âSome day, God willing, he will endeavour to repay them.â

âOh, Captain André,â replied Janice, âât is we are the debtors indeed!â

âWeâll not quarrel over that at parting,â said André, forcing a merry note into his voice. âWhen this
wretched rebellion is over, and you are well back at Greenwood, and may that be soon, I will visit you and
endeavour to settle debit and credit.â

Just as he finished, the sound of drums was heard.

ââT is past tattoo, surely?â Mrs. Meredith questioned with a start.

âAy,â answered André. ââT is the rogueâs march they are ruffling for a would-be deserter who was
drum-headed this evening, and whom they are taking to the State House yard to hang. Brrew! Was not the
gloom of to-night great enough without that as a last touch to ring in our ears? What a fate for a soldier who
might have died in battle! Farewell, and may it be but a short au revoir,â and, turning, the young officer
hurried away, singing out, in an attempt to be cheery, the soldierâs song:â

âWhy, soldiers, why

Should we be melancholy, boys?
Why, soldiers, why,
Whose business ât is to die?
What, sighing? fie!
Drown fear, drink on, be jolly, boys.
âT is he, you, or I!â

XLVIII
A TIME OF TERROR
The Merediths were awakened the next morning by sounds which told of the movements of troops, and all
day long the regiments were marching to the river, and as fast as they could be ferried, were transferred to the
Jersey side, the townspeople who, by choice or necessity, were left behind being helpless spectators
meanwhile. Once again the streets of Philadelphia assumed the appearance of almost absolute desertion; for as
the sun went down the prudent-minded retired within doors, taking good heed to bar shutters and bolt doors,
and the precaution was well, for all night long men might be seen prowling about the streets,âjail-birds,
British deserters, and other desperadoes, tempted by hope of plunder.

Fearful for their own safety, Mrs. Meredith and Janice failed not to use every means at hand to guard it, not
merely closing and securing, so far as they were able, every possible entrance to the house, but as dark came
on, their fear led them to ascend to the garret by a ladder through a trap, and drawing this up, they closed the
entrance. Here they sat crouched on the bare boards, holding each other, for what seemed to them
immeasurable hours; and such was the intensity of the nervous anxiety of waiting that it was scarcely added
to, when, toward daybreak, both thought they detected the tread of stealthy footsteps through the rooms
below. Of this they presently had assurance, for when the pound of horsesâ hoofs was heard outside, the
intruders, whoever they might be, were heard to run through the hall and down the stairs with a haste which
proved to the miserable women that more than they had cause for fear.

XLVIII A TIME OF TERROR 233

Hardly had this sound died away when a loud banging on the front door reached even their ears, and after
several repetitions new fear was given them by the crashing of wood and splintering of glass, which told that
some one had broken in a shutter and window to effect an entrance. Once again footsteps on the stairs were
heard, and a man rushed into the room underneath them and came to a halt.

âDo you find them?â he shouted to some companion, whose answer could not be heard. âWhat ho!â he went
on in stentorian voice. Is there any one in this house who can give me word of a family of Merediths?â

Janice reached forward and raised the trap, but her mother caught her arm away, and the door fell with a bang.

ââT is all right, mommy,â the girl protested. âDidst not hear the jingle of his spurs? âT is surely an officer, and
we need not fear any such.â

Even as she spoke the trap was raised by a sabre from below. âWho âs above?â the man demanded, and as
Janice leaned forward and peeked through the opening, he went on, âI seekââ There he uncovered. âAh, Miss
Meredith, dark as it is above, I could pick you from a thousand by Colonel Breretonâs description. I was
beginning to fear some misfortune had overtaken you. I am Captain McLane of the light horse. You can
descend without fear.â

With a relief that was not to be measured, the two dropped the ladder into place and descended.

âIs Colonel Brereton here?â asked Mrs. Meredith.

âNot he, or I suspect heâd never have given me the thrice-repeated charge to make sure of your safety. He is
with the main army, now in full pursuit of the British, and weâll hope to come up with the rats ere they get
safely to their old hole. Since you are safe I must not tarry, for there is much toââ

âOh, Captain McLane, canât you stay?â beseeched Janice. âDo not leave us unprotected. I canât tell you what
we have suffered through thought of possible violence, and even nowââ

[Illustration: âVictory!â]

âI will station a trooper at the door,â the officer promised; âbut have no fear. Already patrols are established,
and within an hour broadsides will be posted about the city warning all plunderers or other law-breakers that
they will be shot or hanged on sight. General Arnold, who is given command of the city, intends there shall be
no disturbance, and he is not the man to have his orders broke.â

Set at ease as to their safety, the first concern of the women was a hastily improvised breakfast from the
scantily supplied larder which Clowesâ servants had abandoned to them. In the kitchen, as well as all over the
house, they found ample signs that pilferers had been at work, for every receptacle had been thrown open,
drawers dragged out, and the floor littered with whatever the despoilers elected not to take. A month before
Janice would probably have been moved to tears at the discovery that her âelegant and dashy robing,â as well
as her Mischianza costume, had been stolen, but now she scarcely gave either of them a thought, so grateful
was she merely to feel that they were safe from violence and insult.

In reinstating her own meagre possessions in their proper receptacles, which was the girls after-breakfast
occupation, she came upon an unfinished silk purse, and this served to bring an end for a time to the
restoration of order, while she sat upon the floor in a meditative attitude. Presently she laid it on the bureau
with a little sigh and returned to her task. Once this was completed, she again took the purse, and seating
herself, set about its completion.

XLVIII A TIME OF TERROR 234

Afraid to stir out of doors, and with little to occupy her. the next three days served to complete the trifle,
elaborate and complicated as the pattern was. Meantime, a steady stream of Whigs flooded into the city, and
from Captain McLane, who twice dropped in to make sure of their well-being, they learned that the
Continental Congress was about to resume its sessions in the city. Ocular proof that the rulers of America
were assembling was very quickly brought home to the two, for one morning Janice, answering a rap of the
knocker, opened the door to the Honourable Joseph Bagby.

âWell, miss. I guess you âre not sorry to see an old friendâs face, are you. now that the dandiprat redcoats
youâve been gallivanting with have shown that they prefer running away to fighting?â was his greeting, as he
held out his hand.

Janice, divided in mind by the recollection of his treatment of them and by her fear of the future, extended her
own and allowed it to be shaken, as the easiest means of escaping the still more difficult verbal response.

âAre nât you going to ask me in?â inquired the caller, âfor Iâve got something to say.â

âI did nât know that you would want to,â faltered Janice, making entrance for him. âMommy will be glaâwill
be in the parlour,â she said, leading the way to that room.

Without circumlocution, Bagby went at the object of his call the moment the equally embarrassing meeting
with Mrs. Meredith was over.

âI came up to town,â he announced,â to âtend Congress, of which Iâm now a member;â and here the speaker
paused as if to let the new dignity come home to his hearers. âDid nât I tell you I was a rising man? But I had
another object in view in being so prompt, and that was to have a talk with you to see if we can ât arrange
things. âT is nât given to every girl to marry a Congressman, eh, miss?â

âIâIâsuppose not,â stammered Janice, frightened, yet with an intense desire to laugh.

âBefore I say anything as to that,â went on Bagby, âI want to tell you that Iâve been a good friend of yours.
Old Hennion, who âs come out hating your dad the worst way, was for introducing a bill in Assembly last
session declaring his lands forfeited, but I told him Iâd not have it.â

ââT is but a duty man owes to prevent evil deeds,â said Mrs. Meredith.

âWe are very grateful, Mr. Bagby,â Janice thought it was necessary to add, with not a little surprise in her
voice.

âThatâs what I guessed youâd be,â said the legislator. âSays I to myself, âTheyâve made a mistake as to the
side they took but when they see that the British is beat, theyâll do most anything to put themselves right
again and save their property.â Now, if Miss Janice will marry me, there is nât any reason why you should nât
all come back to Greenwood and live as fine as a fivepence.â

âWe should not be willing to give thee our daughter, Mr. Bagby, even were she.â

âBut I amâfor the compliment you offer, sir, I thank you,â interjected Janice.

âNow, you just listen to reason,â protested Joe. âYou must nât think it âs only the property Iâm set on. Iâve
made a swipe of money in the last yearânigh forty thousand dollarsâ Continentalâso I can afford to marry
whom I like; and though I own that thirty thousand acres is no smouch of land, yet Iâm really soft on Miss
Janice, and would marry her even if she had nât money, now that Iâve got some of my own.â

XLVIII A TIME OF TERROR 235

âIt can make no difference, Mr. Bagby,â replied the mother. âNeither her father nor I would consent to her
wedding thee, and I know her wishes accord with ours.â

Joe, with a somewhat bewildered face and a decidedly awkward movement, picked up his hat. âIt donât seem
possible,â he said, âthat youâll throw away all that property; for, of course, Iâm not going to stand between
you and old Hennion when you show yourselves so unfriendly.â

ââT is in the hands of One who knows best.â

Bagby went to the door. âThe Assembly meets on the twenty-eighth,â he remarked, âand I promised some of
the members Iâd quit Congress to 'tend the early part of the session, so Iâve got to go back to Trenton in three
days. If you change your mind before then, let me know.â

âOh, mommy,â groaned the girl the moment the door closed, âI wish there were no such things in the world as
lovers!â Then she told a yet greater untruth: âOr would that I had been born as plain as Tibbieâs aunt!â

ââT is ingratitude to speak thus, child. Hast already forgot the help Philemon tried to give us, and what we
owe to Colonel Brereton?â

The girl made no response for a little, then said hurriedly, âMommy, dost think dadda, and wouldst thou wish
me to wed Colonel Brereton, provided ât would save us our lands and let us live in peace at Greenwood?â

âI know not what to say, Janice. It would be a deliverance, indeed, from a future black with doubt and trouble;
but thy father holds to his promise to Philemon, and I question if heâd ever consent to have a rebel for a
son-in-law. Nor do we know that Colonel Brereton was not but speaking in jest when he said what he did at
Greenwood.â

âHe meant it, mommy,â answered the daughter, âforâfor at grave risk he stole into Philadelphia last April to
see me; and then he vowed he could save us from the Whigs ifâifââ

âAnd wouldst thou wed him willingly?â asked the mother, when Janice lapsed into silence with the sentence
unfinished.

With eyes on the floor and cheeks all aflame, the girl answered: âIâI scarce know, mommy. At times when I
am with him I feel dreadfully excited and frightenedâthough never in the way I am with Lord Clowesâand
want to get away; but the moment he is gone IâI wish him back, if only he would do but what Iâd have
himâand yet I like him forâ for having his own wayâas he always doesâthough I know heâd do mine ifâif I
asked him.â

âJanice, canst thou not speak less lightly and foolishly?â chided Mrs. Meredith. âIf thou lovest the man, say so
without such silly maunderings, which are most unbefitting of thy years.â

âBut IâI donât love Colonel Brereton, mommy,â protested the girl; âand I never could, after hisâafter knowing
that he once gave his love to thatââ

âAnd art thou so foolish, Janice,â demanded her mother, âas to pretend that thou dost not care for him?â

âReally itâit would only be for you and dadda, and to save the property, mommy,â persisted Janice.

âThen why didst thou draw back from Lord Clowes and Bagby?â asked the mother, sternly.

XLVIII A TIME OF TERROR 236

âBut IâI could never haveâhaveâOh, mommy, there is a cart just stopped at the door, and Iâll see what is
wanted,â an excuse conveniently present for the flustered maiden to escape an explanation.

As it proved, the arrival of the cart was of very material moment, for by the time Janice was at the door a
lean-visaged woman had been helped from it, and her salutation was anything but promising.

âWho are you, that you are in my house?â she demanded, and then entered the hall, and, womanlike, would
not listen to the explanations that both Janice and her mother sought to make. âBe off with you at once!â she
ordered. âIâll not have you here a minute. My son died of fever and starvation in a freezing prison last winter
while you made free of his motherâs home not a half-mile away. Be thankful I donât have you arrested for the
rent, or hound the people into treating you Tory snakes as you deserve. No, you shall not stay to get your
clothes; into the street Iâll bundle them when I have got them together, and there youâll find them. Out with
you!â

Janice was for obeying, but Mrs. Meredith refused positively to leave without packing. Hastily their scanty
belongings were bestowed in the two little leathern trunks they had brought originally from Greenwood; these
they dragged to the porch, and, sitting upon them, held debate as to their next step.

Ere they had been able to hit upon some escape from the nonplus, their attention was distracted by a rabble of
men, women, and boys, who suddenly swept around a corner and flooded down the street toward them. With a
premonition of coming evil, Janice sprang to the knocker, and rapped desperately, but their evictor paid no
attention to the appeal. In a moment the mob, which numbered not less than a thousand people, reached the
steps, hissing, hooting. and caterwauling, and from the din rose such cries as: âTory, Tory!â âTurn-coats!â
"Where are the bloody-backs?â âAinât we draggle-tails now?â

âOrder!â shouted a man in a cart pulled by some of the crowd, for which a way was made by all so that it
could be wheeled up to the sidewalk opposite where the two women, holding each otherâs hands, were
despairingly facing the crowd. âRemember, I passed my oath to General Arnold that there âud be no violence;
anâ if we donât keep it, the troops will be down on us. anâ some on you will spend a night in the guard-houseâ

âHooray!â cheered some one, and the mass echoed the cry.

The spokesman turned to the Merediths. âWe knowâd the Fourth oâ July ainât no joyous day to you-alls, so
weâve done our bestest to keep you from thinkinâ of it by bringinâ some one to call on you. Ainât you glad to
see again your old friend, Miss Shy Anna?â

As the speaker finished, he stepped to one side, bringing into view of the porch a woman seated upon the head
of a barrel in the cart. A poor army drab, left behind in the evacuation, had been decked out in what Janice
instantly recognised as her Mischianza costume; and with hair dressed so that it stood up not less than two feet
above her forehead, splashed over with white paint, a drink-coloured face, doubly red in contrast, and bare
feet, with an expanse of more than ankle in a similar nakedness below the trousers, she made up in all a figure
so droll that under any other circumstances Janice would have laughed.

âWe are escortinâ Miss Shy Annaâwho ainât really very shyâto see all her friends of The Blended Rose and of
The Burning Mountain, anâ as we hate airs anâ pride, we demands that each give her a kiss. Just make a way
for Miss Meredith to come and give her the chaste salute,â he ordered of the throng.

âThou wilt not insist on such a humiliation for my daughter,â appealed Mrs. Meredith.

âInsult!â cried the leader. âWho dares to say ât ainât an honour to kiss one dressed in such clothes? Give the
miss a little help, boys, but gently. Donât do her no harm.â

XLVIII A TIME OF TERROR 237

A dozen men were through the gate before the sentence was finished, but outcries and a surge of the mob at
this point gave a new bent to the general attention. A horseman from the direction opposite to that from which
the crowd had come was spurring, with little heed, through the mass, and the clamour and movement were
due to the commotion he precipitated.

In twenty seconds the rider, who was well coated with dust, and whose horse was lathered with the sweat of
fast riding, had come abreast of the cart, and Janice gave a cry of joy. âOh, Colonel Brereton,â she called,
âsave us, I beg!â

âWhat are you about?â demanded the new-comer, sternly, of the crowd.

âWe âre celebratinâ independence,â explained he in the cart, âand all we wants of this miss is that she buss her
friend Miss Shy Anna. They both is British sympathisers.â

âBe off with you, every doodle and rag-tail of you!â ordered the officer, angrily.

âAnd who are you?â demanded one; and another, emboldened by distance, recommended, âPull him off his
horse.â

Twenty hands seized hold of Brereton; but as they did so, the aide, realising his mistake, retrieved it by a
sudden change of manner. âI am an aide of General Washington,â he shouted, âand I bring news of a great
battle.â

An uproar of questions broke out, drowning every other sound, till, by raising his hand, the aide procured
silence.

âI must carry the despatches to Congress; but come with me, and Iâll give you the tale the moment they are
safe delivered.â

With a rush the crowd followed him, as he moved forward, deserting the cart and its occupants, who hastily
descended, and hurried after the throng. But Jack was not so forgetful, and turning in his saddle, he called
back, âIâll return as soon as I can.â

XLIX
PLATO vs. CUPID
The patience of the two homeless women was heavily taxed before Brereton returned, but finally, after nearly
two hoursâ waiting, he came, almost running along the street.

âNeither the Congress nor the populace were to be put off,â he began to explain, ere he was within the gate,
âand I have had to retail again and again the story of the fight, and tell âhow our army swore in Flanders.â But
I dared not break away from them through fear they would follow me back and force me to play hare to their
hounds once more. âT is a great relief to know that you are safe,â Jack declared, as he shook their hands
warmly.

âThanks to you,â replied Mrs. Meredith ââT was indeed a mercy of God that thou camâst when thou didst.â

Pray give my mare, who has done her seventy miles since daylight, some share,â laughed the officer, heartily.

âOh, Colonel Brereton, what do we not owe to you?â exclaimed Janice, warmly.

XLIX PLATO vs. CUPID 238

A few words told their champion of their plight and stirred him to hot anger.

âBy heavens!â he growled; âI would that my general were here to curse the beldame, as he did Lee at
Monmouth. Once you are cared for, Iâll return and see that she hear one manâs opinion of her. Follow me, and
Iâll soon put you in comfort.â Getting a trunk on each shoulder, he set off down the street.

Did I understand thee aright in inferring that General Washington so far forgot himself as to use profane
language?â asked Mrs. Meredith as they walked.

âAy, Laus Deo!â

âI canât think of him as doing that,â ejaculated Janice.

ââT was glorious to hear him, for he spoke with righteous anger as an angel from heaven might, and his every
word was well deserved. Indeed, had I been in command, Lee should have had a file of soldiers before
sundown for his conduct.â

âWhat did he?â

âEverything that an honourable man should not,â answered the aide, warmly. âFinding that Gates had lost
favour with Congress, and had failed in his attempt to supplant Washington, he at once resumed his old
intriguing. But, worse still, once we were across the Delaware and in full cry after the British, he persisted in
the Council of War in asserting that ât would he madness to bring on a general engagement, and that we
should keep at a comfortable distance and merely annoy them by detachment,âcounsel that would have done
credit to the most honourable Society of Midwives, and to them only, and which could mean naught but that
he did not wish my general to reap the glory of defeating the British. Voted down, my fine gentleman at first
refused the command of the advance; but once he saw that the attack had promise of success, he asserted his
claim as senior officer to command it, only, it would seem, with the object of preventing its success, for at the
moment of going into action he predicted to Lafayette that our troops could not stand against the British, and
instead of supporting those engaged, he allowed them to be thrown into confusion and was the first to join in
the retreat which he himself had brought about. âT was at this moment, when he was actually heading the
rout, that my general cantered up to him and demanded, âBy God, sir, what is the meaning of this disorderly
retreat?â Lee began a stuttering explanation that did nât explain, so his Excellency repeated his question. âYou
know that the attack was contrary to my advice and opinion,â stammered Lee, and then Washington thundered
out, âThen you should not have insisted on the command. Youâre a damned poltroon!â And ât was what the
whole army thought and wanted said.â

ââT is too bad General Washington was beat,â sighed Janice.

âThat he was not,â answered Brereton, triumphantly. âWhen we rode up, not a one of us but thought the day
lost, but the general, with a quickness and decision I never before saw in him, grasped the situation, rallied the
broken regiments, seized on a strong piece of ground, and not merely checked the British advance, but drove
them back on their reserves, where, after nightfall, they were glad enough to sneak away, leaving their
wounded and dead behind them. But for Leeâs cowardice, or treachery, as I believe it to be, they âd have
never reached the protection of their fleet at Sandy Hook. Yet one benefit of his conduct will be that ât will
end all talk of making him commander-in-chief. In seeking to injure his Excellency, he has but compassed his
own discrediting, and the cabal against my general in Congress will break down for very lack of a possible
successor. We did more than beat the English at Monmouth.â

The tale served to bring the trio to the City tavern, where Brereton led the way at once to a room on the
second floor, and deposited the two trunks.

XLIX PLATO vs. CUPID 239

âYouâll have no more than time to freshen yourselves for dinner, and weâll leave talk till weâve eaten that,â
he suggested, as he picked up a pair of saddlebags and left the room.

âOh, mommy,â sighed Janice, rejoicefully, âis nât it a relief to be told what to do, and not have to worry oneâs
self? He did nât make us think once.â

Their self-chosen guardian was equally decisive as to the future, when the subject was taken up after the meal.
âI must stay here two days for some despatches Congress wishes me to bear, and ât is fortunate, for I shall
have time to procure a second horse and a pillion, so that you may journey with me.â

âWhither?â

âTo Brunswick.â

âI suppose there is naught else left for us,â said Mrs. Meredith, doubtingly, âbut we have little reason to feel
secure there.â

âDo not give yourself a momentâs discomposure or dolour. We shall find the army there; but, better still, I
possess a means to secure your safety, whether it remains or no.â

âAnd what is that?â inquired Mrs. Meredith, eagerly, while Janice, feeling her cheeks begin to burn, suddenly
sprang to her feet, with a pretended interest in something to be seen from one of the windows, which enabled
her to turn her back to the table.

âBy good luck I have a hold over both Esquire Hennion and Bagby, and Iâll threat them that unless they let
you live at peace Iâll use it.â

Janice came back to the table. ââT was only the rounds,â she remarked with a note of half surprise, half
puzzlement, in her voice, which was not lost to her motherâs ears.

âArt thou as sure as thou wert, Janice,â Mrs. Meredith asked, once they were in their room again, âthat
Colonel Brereton wishes to wed thee?â

âIâI thoughtâhe said he did,â replied the girl, hanging her head with mortification; âbut he may have changed
his mind.â

âI fear me, child, that thy vanity, which has ever led thee to give too much heed to the pretty speeches of men,
has misled thee in this instance.â

Janiceâs doubt grew in the next two days, for by not a word or act did the aide even hint that such a hope was
present in his thoughts. Their every need was his care, and all his spare time was passed in their company; but
his manner conveyed only the courtesy of the friend, and never the tenderness of the lover. Even when the
maiden presented him with the silk purse to which she had given so many hours of toil, his thanks, though
warm, were distinctly platonic. Both piqued and humiliated at his conduct, the girl was glad enough when, on
the morning of the third day, they set out on their journey, and she almost welcomed the advent of Bagby,
who overtook them as they were taking their noon baiting at Bristol, and who made the afternoon ride with
them.

Another familiar face greeted them, as, toward nightfall, they rode into Trenton and drew rein in front of the
Drinkersâ house, whither the ladies had asked to be taken; for ere Janice had been lifted from the horseâs
back, or Mrs. Meredith had descended from the pillion, they were accosted by Squire Hennion.

XLIX PLATO vs. CUPID 240

âI hoped ez haow we wuz well quit of yer," he began; âanâ yer need nât âspect, after all yer goinâs on, anâ
those of yerâ ole Tory husband, thet yeâre goinâ ter be allaowed ter come back ter Greenwood. I persume Joe
âs told yer thet he anâ I is goinâ ter git a bill through this Assembly declarinâ yer lands escheated.â

âYou have nât any right to talk for me, squire,â protested Joe. âI can do my own talking; and my sympathies is
always with the female sex.â

âHe, he!â snickered Hennion. âAinât we doinâ the gallant all of a suddint! Anâ ainât we foxy? Joe, here,â he
continued, turning to the ladies, âcome ter me jest afore we left Brunswick, with a bill heâd drawâd ter take
yer lands, anâ he says ter me he wuz a-goinâ ter push it through Assembly. But by the time we gits ter
Trenton, word come thet the redcoats wuz a scuttlinâ fer York, so Joe he set off like a jiffy ter see, I persume,
if yer wuz ter be faound. Did he offer ter buy yer lands cheap, or did he ask ter be bought off? Or is the sly
tyke snoopinâ araound arter yer darter?â

Bagby had the grace to grow a brick red at this revelation and home thrust, and he began an attempted
explanation. But Brereton, who had helped both his charges to the ground, did not let them give ear to it. âI
will bide at the tavern, and weâll start to-morrow as soon after daybreak as we can,â he said, as he escorted
them to the door, then turned back to the two assemblymen, who were busy expressing frank opinions of each
other. âQuarrel as you like,â he broke in, âbut understand one thing now. That bill must never be introduced,
or the pair of you shall hear from me. I warn you both that I have in my possession your signed oaths of
allegiance to King George, and if you dare to push your persecution of the Merediths Iâll ride from one end of
Middlesex County to tâ other, and prove to your constituents what kind of Whigs you are, over your own
hands and seals.â He took the two bridles and walked toward the tavern.

âThet âere is a lie!â cried Hennion, yet following the officer.

âIt is, if you never signed such a paper,â remarked Jack, drily.

âI defy yer ter show it.â challenged Hennion.

âIf you want sight of it, introduce the bill,â retorted the aide.

âSay, colonel,â said Bagby, with a decided cringe, âyou wonât use those documents against your old friends,
will you?â

ââT ainât fer a Continental officer ter injure them cairn ginooine Whigs,â chimed in Hennion, âanâ only swore
an oath cuz it seemed bestest jest then.â

"If you donât want those papers known, stop persecuting the Merediths.â

âSo thet gal âs caught yer, too, hez she? Look aout fer them. Theyâll use yer ter save theer lands, anâ then
theyâll send yer ter right-abaout, like they done with my Phil. I warns yer agin âem, anâ ef yer donât listen ter
me, the dayâll come when yerâll rue it.â

Meanwhile the Drinkers had made the new arrivals most welcome; and the two girls, with so much to tell each
other, found it difficult to know where to begin. They had not talked long, however, when Janice became
conscious that there was a rift in the lute.

âMy letter,â she said, âwould have told you better than ever I now can all about the routs and the plays, and
everything else; but, alas! some one broke into our house the night the British left Philadelphia, and search as
I would the next day, I could not find what I had written you.â

XLIX PLATO vs. CUPID 241

âI should think thee âd be glad,â replied Tibbie; âfor surely thou ârt ashamed of having been so Toryish.â

âNot I,â denied Janice. âAnd why should I be?â

âShame upon thee, Janice Meredith, for liking the enemies of thy country!â

âAnd pray, madam,â questioned Janice, âwhat has caused this sudden fervour of Whigism in you?â

âI never was unfaithful to my country, nor smiled on its persecutors.â

âHumph!â sniffed Janice. âOne would think, to hear you talk, that you have given those smiles to some rebel
lover.â

âBetter a Whig lover than one of your popinjay British officers,â retorted Tibbie, crimsoning.

âGemini!â burst from the other. âI believe ât is a hit from the way you colour.â

âAnd if ât wasâwhich ât is notâât is naught to feel ashamed of.â resentfully answered the accused.

The two girls had been spatting thus in lowered voices on the sofa, and as Tibbie ended, her disputantâs arm
was about her waist, and she was squeezed almost to suffocation.

âOh, Tibbie, wilt tell me all about itâand himâonce we are in bed to-night?â begged Janice, in the lowest but
most eager of whispers.

Whether this prayer would have been granted was not to be known, for as it was uttered Mr. Drinker
interrupted their dialogue.

âWhy, Tabitha,â he called from across the room, âhere âs a great miscarriage. Mrs. Meredith tells me that
Colonel Brereton rode with them from Philadelphia, but thinking to oâercrowd us he has put up at the Sun
tavern.â

Had the daughter merely remarked that ââT was a monstrous pity,â or suggested that her father should at once
set off to the hostel to insist on his coming to them, Janice would have thought nothing of the incident; but in
place of this Tibbie said, ââT is well,â with a toss of her head, even as she grew redder still, and realising this,
she pretended that some supper preparation required her attention, and almost fled from the room.

âColonel Brereton,â explained Mr. Drinker, âstopped with us last summer each time he rode through Trenton
on public business, and we came to like him much; so glad were we when he was well enough from his
wound this spring to once more drop in upon us.â

âHis wound!â exclaimed Janice.

âAy,â said Miss Drinker. âDidst thee not know that he was hit at Whitemarsh, and was weeks abed?â

Mr. Drinker gave a hearty laugh as the girl shook her head in dissent. âIâll tell thee a secret, Jan,â he said,
âand give thee a fine chance to tease. There was a girl not a hundred miles from this house who was sorely
wounded by that same British bullet, and who pilfered every goody she could find from our pantry, and would
have it that I should ride myself to Valley Forge with them all, but that I found a less troublesome
conveyance.â

XLIX PLATO vs. CUPID 242

ââT was very good of her,â said Janice, gravely. âIâI did not know that he had been wounded.â

âThou wert hardly in the way of it,â replied Mr. Drinker. âBritish officers were scarce news sheets of our
army.â

However praiseworthy Miss Meredith may have thought her friendâs kindness to Brereton, one action
conveyed the contrary import, for when the bed hour came she said to Tabitha: âI think Iâll sleep with
mommy, and not with thee, after all.â

âOh, Jan, and I have so much to tell thee!â

âWe make so early a start,â explained Miss Meredith, âthat the sleep is more valuable to me.â Then the girl,
after a swallow, said: âAnd I thank you, Tibbie, for being so good to Colonel Brereton, to whom we owe
much kindness; for even had we known he was injured, we could have done nothing for him.â She kissed her
friend and followed her mother.

When Brereton appeared the next morning, Janice mounted the horse which was to bear her while the aide
was exchanging greetings with the Drinkers; and when these quickly changed into farewells, she heeded not
Tabithaâs protest that they had not kissed each other good-by.

âI thought to save time by mounting,â explained Janice, âand for this once it does not matter.â And during the
whole morningâs ride the aide found her strangely silent and unresponsive.

Both these qualities disappeared with marvellous suddenness once they were within the Greenwood gate. All
along the Raritan the fields were dotted with tents and parks of artillery, and on Greenwood lawn stood a large
marquee, from which floated the headquartersâ flag, while groups of officers and soldiers were scattered
about in every direction. But all this panoply of war was forgotten by the girl, as Sukey, who was carrying
some dish from the house to the tent, dropped it with a crash on the ground, and with a screech of delight
rushed forward. Janice slid, rather than alighted, from her horse; and as if there were no such things as social
distinctions, mistress and slave hugged each other, both rendered inarticulate by their sobs of joy. Further to
prove that hearts have nothing to do with the colour of the skin, Billy Lee, who had been following in Sukeyâs
train with another dish, was so melted by the sight that he proceeded to deposit his burden of a large ham on
the grass, and began a loud blubbering in sympathy. Their united outcries served to bring two more
participants on the scene, for Peg and Clarion came running out of the house and with screams and yelps
sought to express their joy.

While this spectacle was affording infinite amusement to the officers and sentinels, Brereton, after helping
Mrs. Meredith alight, went in search of Washington and in a few moments returned with him.

âWe have made free with your home, as you see, Mrs. Meredith,â apologised the commander-in-chief, as he
shook her hand, "and I scarce know now whether to bid you welcome, or to ask leave for us to tarry till
to-morrow. May we not effect a compromise by your dining and supping with me, and, in return, your
favouring me and my family with a nightâs lodging?â

"Thou couldst not fail of welcome for far longer, General Washington,â said Mrs. Meredith, warmly, âbut
thou art doubly so if Lady Washington is with thee.â

âNay; I meant my military family,â explained the general. âMrs. Washington retreated, ere the campaign
opened, to Mount Vernon.â Then he turned to the daughter and shook her hand. âAh, Miss Janice,â he said,
âsorry reports weâve had of thy goings on, and we greatly feared we had lost thee to the cause.â

XLIX PLATO vs. CUPID 243

"Ah, no. your Excellency,â protested the girl. âThough I did once pray that the British should capture
Philadelphia, ât was not because I wished you beaten, but solely because it would bring dadda to us, andâand
many a prayer Iâve made for you.â

The general smiled. ââT will be glad news to some," he said, with a sidelong look at Brereton, âthat thy
sympathies have always been with us. I presume thou hast simply been doing the British soldiery all the harm
that thou couldst under guise of friendliness. Iâll warrant thouâst a greater tale of wounded officers than any
of Morganâs riflemen, sharpshooters though they be.â

âI would I could say I had been ever faithful, your Excellency, but I must own to fickleness.â

âThese are times that test loyalty to the full,â replied Washington, âand there has been many a waverer in the
land.â

âOf that I know full well, your Excellency.â

âNay, Miss Meredith, thou needest not pretend that thou hast any knowledge of inconstancy. From that
particular failing of mankind Iâll agree to hold thee harmless.â

âYour Excellency but compliments me," answered Janice, âin presuming me exempt from forgetfulness.â And
as she spoke the girl gave an unconscious glance at Brereton.

L
ROSES AND HONEYSUCKLE
Dinner, which was actually being placed on the table in the tent at the moment the ladies arrived, cut short
further conversation with either Washington or Sukey. Utterly forgetful of her duties to spit and oven, nothing
would do the former cook but to follow Janice to her old room, where she summarily ordered Billy to clear
out the clothing and accoutrements of its military tenants.

âDonât you stay, Sukey,â said Janice, âif you are needed in the kitchen. His Excellencyââ

âDat I ainât, chile. Ginâl Washington he trabell wid his own cook, anâ Peg anâ I âse only helpinâ Mr. Lee set
de table and carry de dishes. Now I help ma honey.â

âOh, Sukey,â carolled Janice, âit is so good to be home again!â

âGuess Missus Sukey tink dat too,â said William, halting in his labours. âShe dun talk about nuthinâ else but
her pooty young missus.â

âAnd how âs Blueskin, Billy?â questioned Janice.

âLorâ bless us, miss, dyar ainât no restraininâ ob dat steed wid de airs he put on since he dun took part at
Monmouth anâ hear the ginâl say what he tink oh dat feller Lee. I tell him if he doan behave better, de next
time dyar âs goinâ to be a battle, I jusâ saddle up Nelson anâ leave him behind.â

âNow youse stop a-talkinâ anâ tote dem menâs tings somewhars else. Missy Janice gwine to change her
gown, anâ we doan want nuttinâ oh dat sort in hyar.â

âIâll only smart myself a little and not change my frock, Sukey, becauseââ

L ROSES AND HONEYSUCKLE 244

âDat youse must, honey, for I dun praise youse so dat I ainât gwine to have dem disappointed in youse.
Whoâll be to dinner to-day, Mr. Lee?â

[Illustration: âWashington has crossed the Delaware!â]

âGenâl Greene anâ Lord Sterlinâ, anâ de staff, anâ de field anâ brigades major ob de day.â

âDere, chile, now doan youse depreciate yourself to all dem. Jusâ youse put on de pootiest dress youse hab
anâ do ole Sukey proud.â Then, as she helped Janice to bedeck herself she poured out the story of their
makeshift life, telling how, with what had been left of the poultry, and with the products of the small patch of
the garden they had been able to till, the two slaves had managed to live the year through, taking the best care
they could of their masterâs property, and hoping and praying daily for what had at last come to pass. The
arraying would have been more speedy with the volunteer abigail out of the room; but not once did the
mistress even suggest it, and, on the contrary, paused several times in the process to give the black a hug.

Finally, a call from her mother put an end to this frittering and hurried the girl downstairs. Washington gave
his hand to Mrs. Meredith, and there was a contest of words among the numerous officers for the privilege of
the girlâs, till Lord Sterling asserted his prerogative of rank and carried her off. Her presence was indeed a
boon to the twenty men who sat down at the table, and, accustomed as Janice was by this time to the attention
of officers, she could not but be flattered by the homage and deference paid her, all the more, perhaps, that it
was witnessed by Brereton. Nor did this cease with the withdrawal of the ladies, for a number of the younger
blades elected for her society rather than for that of the bottle, and made themselves her escort in the tour of
inspection which Janice insisted on making about the place; and had she needed to be helped or lifted over
every fence, or even stone, they encountered, there would have been willing hands to do it. It is true she was
teased not a little for her supposed British sympathies, but it was not done ill-naturedly, and the girl was now
quick-witted and quick-tongued enough to protect herself.

This plurality of swains did not lessen as the afternoon advanced, for not one of the diners departed, and when
tea-time had come, their ranks were swelled by a dozen new arrivals, giving both Mrs. Meredith and Janice all
they could do to keep the assembly supplied with âdishesâ of the cheerful but uninebriating beverage which
had been so material a cause in the very embodying of this army. Then the officers idled about the lawn, each
perhaps hoping for an invitation to stay on to the supper which so quickly followed the tea-drinking; and those
who were fortunate enough to attain their wish did not hurry away once the meal was concluded. Only when
Mrs. Meredith excused herself and her daughter on the ground of fatigue, did the youngsters recollect that
there were camp duties which called them away.

âI fear me, Miss Janice,â said the commander-in-chief, as the good-nights were being said, âthat discipline
would be maintained with difficulty were we long to remain encamped here. Personally, I cannot but regret
that we move northward to-morrow; but for the good of the service I think ât is fortunate.â

Drum beat and bugle call, sounding reveille, brought Janice back to consciousness the next morning; and it is
to be suspected that she took some pains with her morning toilet, for by the time she descended tents were
already levelled and regiments and artillery were filing past on the road.

âWe have reason to believe that Sir Henry meditates a move up the Hudson against our post of West Point,â
Washington explained to Janice; âand so it is our duty to put ourselves within protecting distance, though I
myself think he will scarce venture a blow, the more that he is strengthening his lines about New York. âT is
not a little pleasing to us that, after two yearsâ fighting and manoeuvring, both armies are brought back to the
very point they set out from, and that from being the attacking party, the British are now reduced to the use of
spade and pick-axe for defence.â

L ROSES AND HONEYSUCKLE 245

âI wish you were not leaving us, your Excellency,â sighed Janice.

ââT is one of the penalties of war,â replied the general, âthat we are doomed to see little of the fair sex, and
must be content with an occasional sip of their society. Should we winter near here, as now seems possible, I
trust you will honour Mrs. Washington and myself with your company at headquarters. And one word ere we
part, Mrs. Meredith. You must not think that we make free with peopleâs property, as we seem to have done
in your case. Finding your home unoccupied, I made bold to take it for my headquarters; but the
quartermaster-general will pay you before we leave for such use as I have made of it.â

âWe could not accept anything, your Excellency,â protested the hostess. âThe obligation is with us, and I
begââ

âBe off with you to your stations, gentlemen,â ordered Washington, as he rose from the table; and having
cleared the room, he continued: âNay, Mrs. Meredith, Congress allows me my expenses, and ât is only just
that you should be paid. And however well provided you may be, a little ready money will surely not be
amiss?â

âYour Excellency is more thoughtful of our future than we are ourselves,â responded Mrs. Meredith. âFor a
moment I had forgot our position; we will gladly accept payment.â

âWould that I could as easily pay you for the pleasure you have given me,â said the general, shaking her hand.
âMiss Janice, weâll do our best,â he went on, âto tie the British soldiery into New York; but, whether we
succeed or no, I wish to hear of no more philandering with their officers. âT is hard enough to fight them in
the field, without encountering them in our softer moments; so see to it that you save your smiles and blushes
for us.â

âI will, your Excellency,â promised Janice, as she did both.

âNay, nay, my child,â he corrected, smiling. âI did not mean that thou shouldst blush and smile for me. I am a
married man, and old enough to be thy father.â

ââT is fortunate you are the first, your Excellency,â laughed the girl in turn, âor the latter should not protect
you.â And as the general held out his hand she impulsively kissed it.

âI shall write Mrs. Washington that ât will never do for her to leave me during another campaign,â replied the
commander, reciprocating the salute. âNot but she will be very proud to think that so charming a maid
honours her husband with such favours.â

At the door the staff were already mounted and waiting their chief. Farewells were completed with all save
Brereton, who for some reason had withdrawn a little from the group; and these done, the cavalcade trotted
off.

No sooner was it upon the road than Brereton spurred up alongside of his superior, and, saluting, said in a
dropped voice: âYour Excellency, I had something of moment to say to the Merediths, but ât was impossible
to get private word, with all the idlers and racketers and Jack-a-dandies of the army running in and out upon
them. May I not turn back? I will overtake you ere many hours.â

âThink you, sir,â asked Washington, gravely, âI have no occasion for my aides, that you make such a
request?â

Jack flushed with mortification and temper. âI supposed that, on the march, you could spareââ

L ROSES AND HONEYSUCKLE 246

âI can, my boy,â interrupted the commander-in-chief with a change of manner, âand was but putting off a
take-in on you. My own courting was done while colonel of the First Virginia regiment, and well I remember
how galling the military duties were. âT is to be feared I was not wholly candid in the reasons calling me from
the regiment to Williamsburg, that I alleged to my superiors, for my business at the capital took few hours,
and both going and returning I managed to stay many at âWhite House.â May your wooing speed as
prosperously,â he finished, extending an arm and pressing his juniorâs hand warmly. âAnd if by chance you
should not overtake us till to-morrow, Iâll think of twenty years ago and spare you a reprimand.â

âGod save you, sir!â exclaimed Jack, in an undertone of gratitude. âIâI loveâShe isâis so dear to me, that I
could not bear the thought of waiting.â Wheeling his horse, the rider gave him the spur.

The moment the general and staff had trotted away, Mrs. Meredith turned to her daughter and asked, âHast
thou refused Colonel Brereton, Janice?â

âNo, mommy,â faltered the girl.

âThen why did he ride off without a word to either of us?â

âIâât isâI can only think thatâthat he has come to care for Tibbieâbeing in and out of love easilyâand so is
ashamed of the part he has played.â

ââT is evident that I was right in my view that thy vanity had misled thee,â replied the mother. âBut weâll not
discuss its meaning now, for I must find out how we stand. Try to make thyself a task, child.â

Her search for this took the maiden, closely followed by Clarion, to the garden, where she found that weeds, if
nothing else, had thriven, though the perennials still made a goodly show. Before beginning a war on the
former, she walked to a great tangle of honeysuckle that clustered about and overtopped a garden seat, to
pluck a bunch and stick it in the neckerchief that was folded over her bosom; then she went to her favourite
rose-bush and kissed the one blossom July had left to it. âIâll not pick you,â she said, âsince you are the only
one.â

The sound of galloping caught her attention as she raised her head and though she could not see the rider, her
ears told her that he turned into Greenwood gate, even before the pace was slackened. Not knowing what it
might bode, the girl stood listening, with an anxious look on her face. The cadence of the hoof-beats ended
suddenly, and silence ensued for a time; then as suddenly, quick footsteps, accompanied by a tell-tale jingle
and clank, came striding along the path from the kitchen to the port in the hedge. One glance Janice gave at
the opposite entrance, as if flight were in her thoughts, then, with a hand resting on the back of the seat to
steady herself, she awaited the intruder.

Brereton paused in the opening of the box, as his eyes rested on his love. âWould to Heaven,â he exclaimed,
âthat I had my colours and the time to paint you as you stand!â

Both relieved and yet more frightened, Janice, in an attempt to conceal the latter feeling, remarked, âI thought
you had departed, sir.â

âThink you Iâd rest content without farewell, or choose to have one with the whole staff as witnesses?"
answered Jack, as he came forward. âFurthermore, I had some matters of which to speak that were not to be
published to the world.â

âMommy isââ

L ROSES AND HONEYSUCKLE 247

âWhere Iâd have her,â interjected the officer; âfor what I have to say is to you. First: I put the screws on old
Hennion and Bagby, and have their word that they will not push their forfeiture bill, or in any other way
molest you.â

âWe thank you deeply, Colonel Brereton.â

âI rode to Brunswick and saw Parson McClave yesterday afternoon, to bespeak his aid, and he says he is
certain you may live at peace here, if you will not seek to be rigorous with your tenants, and that he will do his
best to keep the community from persecuting you.â

ââT is glad news, indeed.â

âKnowing how you were circumstanced, I then rode about your farms and held interview with a number of
your tenants and pleaded with them that they pay a part of their arrears in supplies; and several of the better
sort gave me their word that you should not want for food.â

ââT was most thoughtful of you.â

âFinally, I wrote a letter to your father, and have sent it under a flag that was going to New York, telling him
that you were safe arrived at Greenwood.â

âAh, Colonel Brereton, how can we ever repay your kindness?â murmured the girl, her eyes brightened and
softened by a mist of unshed tears.

ââT was done for my own ease. Think you I could have ridden away, not knowing what risk or privation you
might have to suffer in my absence?â

ââT is only the greater cause for gratitude that you make your ease depend on ours.â

âThat empties my packet of advices,â said the aide; âand âandâunless you have something to tell me,
Iâllâweâll say a farewell and Iâll rejoin the army.â

âWould that I could thank you, sir, as you deserve; but words mean so little that you have rendered me
dumb,â replied Janice, feelingly.

âCan you notâHave you nothing else to say to me?â he begged pleadingly.

âIâIndeed, I can think of nothing, Colonel Brereton,â replied the maiden, very much flustered.

âThen good-by, and may God prosper you,â ended Jack, sadly, taking her hand and kissing it gently. He
turned with obvious reluctance, and went toward the house, but before he had reached the hedge he quickly
retraced his steps. âIâI could not force my suit upon you when I found you in such helplessnessânot even
when you gave me the purseâthough none but I can know what the restraint meant in torture,â he burst out;
âand it seems quite as ungenerous to try to advantage myself now of your momentâs gratefulness. But my
passion has its limits of control, and go I cannot withoutâwithoutâ Give me but a word, though it be a
sentence of death to my heartâs desire.â

Janice, whose eyes had been dropped groundward during most of this colloquy, gave the pleader a
come-and-go glance, then said breathlessly, âIââT isâWhaâwhaâWhat would you wish me to say?â

âWhat you can,â cried the officer, impetuously.

L ROSES AND HONEYSUCKLE 248

âIâI wouldââT is my desire toâto say what you would have me.â

Both her hands were eagerly caught in those of the suppliant. âIf you couldâIfââT would be everything on
earthâ more than life itself to meâcould you but give me the faintest hope that I might win you. Have you such
an abhorrence of me that you cannot give me the smallest guerdon of happiness?â

âYou err in supposing that I dislike you,â protested Janice.

âThen why do you refuse all that is dearest to me? Why turn from a devotion that would make your happiness
its own?â

âBut I have nât,â denied the girl, her heart beating wildly and her breath coming quickly.

As the words passed her lips, she was impulsively yet tenderly caught in her loverâs arms and drawn to him.
âWhat have you done, then?â he demanded almost fiercely.

âIâIâoh! I donât know,â she gasped.

âThen, as you have pity in you, grant my prayer?â

For a moment Janice, with down-bent head, was silent. Then she raised her eyes to Jackâs and said, âI will
marry you, Colonel Brereton, if dadda will let me.â

LI
A FAREWELL AND A WELCOME
There was little weeding of the garden that fore-noon, unless the brushing off with Jackâs gauntlets of some
green moss from the garden seat, about which clustered the honeysuckle, can be considered such. Possibly
this was done that more sprays of the vine might be plucked, for when Sukey, after repeated calls from the
entry, finally came to summon them to dinner, Jack had a bunch of it, and a single rose, thrust in his sword
knot.

There was a pretence of affected unconsciousness at the meal on the part of the three, and even of Peg, though
the servant made it difficult to maintain the fiction by several times going off into fits of reasonless giggles
not easy for those at table to ignore. The repast eaten, Brereton drew Mrs. Meredith aside for a word, and
Janice took advantage of the freedom to escape to her room, where she buried her face in the pillow, as if she
had some secret to confide to it.

From this she was presently roused by her motherâs entrance, and as the girl, with flushed cheeks and
questioning look, met her eyes, Mrs. Meredith said: âI think, my child, thou hast acted for the best, and we
will hope thy father will think so.â

âOh, mommy, dost think heâll consent?â

âI fear not, but that must be as God wills it. Go down now, for Colonel Brereton says he must ride away, and
only tarries for a word with thee.â

Janice gave one glance at the mirror, and put her hands to her hair, with a look of concern. ââT is dreadfully
disordered.â

LI A FAREWELL AND A WELCOME 249

âHe will not notice it, that Iâll warrant,â prophesied the matron.

With his horseâs bridle over his arm, the lover was waiting for her on the front porch. âWill you not walk with
me down the road a little way?â he begged. ââT is so hard to leave you.â

âIâI think I had better not,â urged the girl, showing trepidation. ââT would surely delay you tooââ

âAh, Janice,â interrupted the lover, âwhyâwhat have I done that you should show such fear of me?â

âIâm not afraid of you,â denied Janice, hurriedly; âand of course Iâll go, ifâif you think it best.â

âThen what is it frightens you, sweetheart?â persisted Jack, as they set off.

The maiden scrutinised the ground and horizon as if seeking an explanation ere she replied shyly, ââT isâât is
indeed no fear of you, but youâyou never ask permission.â

The officer laughed exultingly. âThen may I put my arm about you?â he requested.

ââT will make walking too difficult.â

âHow know you that?â demanded Jack.

ââT isâât is easily fancied.â

Breretonâs free arm encircled the girl. âTry to fancy it,â he entreated. âAnd never again say that I do not ask
permission.â

A mile down the road Jack halted. âIâll not let you go further,â he groaned; ânor must I linger, for reminder of
my wound still troubles me if I ride too quick.â

âWhy did you not tell me you had been wounded when you took me away from the ball?â asked Janice,
reproachfully.

ââT was not once in my thoughts that evening, nor was anything else save you.â

âI can make all sorts of preserves and jellies and pickles, and next winter Iâll send you some to camp.â

âThat you shall not,â asserted the aide; âfor the day we go into winter quarters sees me back here to dance at
your wedding.â

âHadst better wait till thou art invited, sir?â suggested Janice, saucily.

âWhat? A revolt on my hands already!â exclaimed the officer.

âT is you are the rebel.â

âThen you are my prisoner,â retorted Jack, catching her in his arms.

âYou Whigs are a lawless lot!â

âToward avowed Tories, ayâand a good serve-out to them.â

LI A FAREWELL AND A WELCOME 250

âBut I gave my word to his Excellency that from henceforth Iâd be Whiggish, so youâve no right to treat me
as one.â

âThen Iâll not,â agreed the lover. âAnd since I plundered from you while you were against us, ât is only right
that I should return what I took.â He kissed her thrice tenderly. âGood-by, my sweet,â he said, and, releasing
her, mounted. ââT is fortunate I depend not on my own legs, for they âd never consent to carry me away from
you.â He started his horse, but turned in his saddle to call back: ââT will not be later than the first of
November, with or without permission,â and throwing a last kiss with his hand, spurred away.

Till Jack passed from view, the girlâs eyes followed him then, with a look of dreaminess in her eyes, she
walked slowly back to Greenwood, so abstracted by her thoughts that she spoke not a word to the attendant
hound.

Whatever might be the inclination of the girl, her mother gave her little chance to dream in the next few days.
Not merely was there much about house and garden to be brought into order, but Mrs. Meredith succeeded in
bargaining their standing crop of grass in exchange for a milch cow, and to Janice was assigned both its
milking and care, while the chickens likewise became her particular charge. From stores in the attic the
mother produced pieces of whole cloth, and Janice was set at work on dresses and underclothes to resupply
their depleted wardrobes. Not content with this, Mrs. Meredith drew from the same source unspun wool and
unhatchelled flax, and the girl was put to spinning both into thread and yarn, that Peg might weave them into
cloth, against the need of winter. From five in the morning till eight at night there was occupation for all; and
so tired was the maiden that she gladly enough heard her motherâs decree that their small supply of candles
should not be used, but that they should go to bed with the sun.

They were thus already asleep by ten oâclock one August evening, when there came a gentle knocking on the
back door, which, after several repetitions, ceased, but only to be resumed a moment later on the front one.
Neither summons receiving any attention, a succession of pebbles were thrown against Janiceâs window,
finally bringing the sleeper back to wakefulness. Her first feeling, as she became conscious of the cause, was
one of fear, and her instinct was to pay no attention to the outsider. After one or two repetitions, however, of
the disquieting taps, she stole to the window, and, keeping herself hidden, peeped out. All she could see was a
man standing close to a shrub, as if to take advantage of its concealment, who occasionally raised an arm and
tossed a pebble against the panes. Really alarmed, the girl was on the point of seeking her mother, when her
eyes took in the fact that Clarion was standing beside the cause of her fright, and seeking, so far as he could,
to win his attention. Reassured, the girl raised the sash, and instantly her fatherâs voice broke upon her ears.

âDown with ye, Jan,â he said, âand let me get under cover.â

Both anxious and delighted, the girl ran downstairs and unbarred the door.

âI had begun to fear me that I had been misinformed and that ye and your mother were not hereabout,â the
squire began; âso ât is indeed a joy to find ye safe.â And then, after Mrs. Meredith had been roused, he
explained his presence. âThough I could not get back to ye in Philadelphia, no worry I felt on your account,
making sure that Lord Clowes would look to your safety. An anxious week I had after the army reached New
York, till I received Colonel Breretonâs letter telling me of your safety, though that only assured me as to the
past, and I knew that any moment the rascally Whigs might take to persecuting ye again.â

âNay, Lambert,â said Mrs. Meredith, ânot a one has offered us the slightest annoyance. On the contrary, some
of thy tenants have tendered us food in payment of rent, though I own that they insist upon hard bargains.â

âI would I had as little complaint to make,â responded the husband. âNo sooner did Clinton reach New York
than my appointment was taken from me, and but for Philâs kindness I should like to have starved. Though

LI A FAREWELL AND A WELCOME 251

with little money himself, the boy would let me want for nothing, and but for him I should not even have been
able to be here to-nightâ

âHow was that, dadda?â asked Janice.

ââT is not to be whispered outside, Jan, but some of these same rebel Jerseymenâay, and the Connecticut
Yankeesâ much prefer the ring of British guineas to the brustle of the worthless paper money of the Whigs, so
almost nightly boat-loads of provisions and forage steal out of the Raritan for New York, but for which the
British army would be on short commons. Phil, who knew of this traffic, secured me passage on one of the
empty boats.â

âThen the villagers know thou hast returned?â exclaimed Mrs. Meredith, anxiously.

âNot they, for those in the business are as little anxious to have it known they have been in New York as I am
to have it advertised that I am here at Greenwood, and there is little danger that either of us will blab.â

âHad Lord Clowes arrived in New York, Lambert?â inquired Mrs. Meredith.

âThat he had, and in a mighty dudgeon he was at first against all of us: with ye for what he took offence at in
Philadelphia, and with me because I hold to my promise to Phil. But when he had word that I was coming
here, he sought me out in a great turn-over, and said if I brought ye back to New York his house should be at
our service, and that we should want for nothing. There is no doubt, lass, that he loves ye prodigious.â

The girl shivered, August night though it was, but merely exclaimed, âYou âd not think of making us go to
New York when we are under no necessity?â

âNot I, now that I know ye to be well off, which I feared ye were not. The nut to crack is to know whether I
hadst best find safety by returning to New York, to live like a pauper on Phil, or seek to lie hid here for a
three-months.â

âAnd why three months, Lambert?â asked his wife.

ââT is thought that will serve to bring about a peace. Have ye not heard how this much-vaunted alliance with
France has resulted? The French fleet and soldiers, united to a force under Sullivan, attempted to capture the
British post at Newport, but oil and vinegar would not mix. The Parley-voos wanted to monopolise all the
honour by having the Americans play second fiddle to them, but to this they âd not consent; and while the two
were quarrelling over it, like dogs over a bone, in steps the British, drubs the two of them, and carries off the
prize. That gone, theyâve set to quarrelling as to whose fault it was. The feeling now is as bitter against the
French as ât was against the British, and ât is thought that with this end to their hopes from the frog-eaters,
theyâll be glad enough to make a peace with us, the more that their paper money, the only thing that has kept
them going this long, loses value daily, and they will soon have nothing with which to pay bills and soldiers.â

âThou hadst best stay here, Lambert,â advised Mrs. Meredith. ââT will be more comfortable for thee, and far
happier for us.â

âRemember that I run the risk of capture, wife.â

âThou canst be kept concealed from all but Peg and Sukey, who are as faithful as we.â

âAnd I am sure if by chance you were discovered,â suggested Janice, haltingly, âthat Colonel Brereton
wouldâwould âsave you from ill treatment.â

LI A FAREWELL AND A WELCOME 252

âColonel Brereton?â

âAy, Lambert,â spoke up Mrs. Meredith, as her daughter looked appealingly to her. âThere is something yet to
be told, which has won us a strong friend who would never permit thee to suffer. Colonel Brereton, to whom
we owe all our present safety, has declared his attachment to Janice, and seeks herââ

âSmall doubt he has,â derisively interjected the squire. âI make certain that every rebel, seeing the game
drawing to a close, is seeking to feather his nest.â

âNay, Lambert. âT is obvious he truly loves ourââ

âHe may, but it shall not help him to her or her acres,â again interrupted the father. âThe impudence of these
Whigs passes belief. I hope ye sent him off with a bee in his breeches, Matilda.â

âThat we did not,â denied Mrs. Meredith. âNor wouldst thou, hadst thee been with us to realise all his
goodness to us.â

âWell, well,â grumbled the father, resignedly, âI suppose if the times are such that we must accept favours of
the rebels, we must not resent their insults. But ât is bitter to think of our good land come to such a pass that
rogues like this Brereton and Bagby should dare obtrude their suits upon us.â

âOh, dadda,â protested Janice, pleadingly, âât was truly no insult he intended, but theâthe highestâhe spoke as
ifâas ifâThere was a tender respect in his every word and action, as if I might have been a queen. And I could
notâOh, mommy, please, please, tell it for me!â

ââT is best thou shouldst know at once, Lambert, that Janice favours his wooing.â

âWhat!â roared the squire, looking incredulously from mother to daughter, and then, as the latter nodded her
head, he cried, âIâll not believe it of ye, Jan, however ye may wag your pate. Wed a bondman! Have ye forgot
your old pledge to me? Where âs your pride, child, that ye should even let the thought occur to ye?â

âBut he is well born, dadda, far better than we ourselves, for he told me once that his great-grandfather was
King of England,â cried the girl, desperately.

âAnd ye believed the tale?â

âHe would not lie to me, dadda, I am sure."

âWhy think ye that?â

âOhâhe neverâloving me, he neverâcanât you understand? He âd not deceive me, dadda.â

âYe âre the very one he would, ye mean, and small wonder he takes advantage of ye if ye talk as foolishly to
him as to me. Have done with all thought of the fellow and of his clankers concerning his birth. Whateâer he
was, he is to-day a run-away bondservant andââ

âBut, dadda, he is now a lieutenant-colonel andââ

âOf what? Where âs the honour in being in command of the riff-raff of the land? Dost not know that the most
of their officers are made out of tapsters and tinkers and the like? Does it make a tavern idler or a bankrupt the
less of either, that a pack of dunghills choose to dub him by another title? Once peace and law are come again,

LI A FAREWELL AND A WELCOME 253

this same scalawag Brereton, or Fownes, or whatever he will then be, must return to my service and fulfil his
bond, with a penalty of double time to boot. Proud yeâd be to see your spouse ordered to field or stable work
every morning by my overseer!â

ââT would grieve me, dadda,â replied the girl, gently, âbecause I know how proud he is, and how it would
make him suffer; but ât would not lessen my respect orâor affection for him.â

âWhat?â snorted Mr. Meredith once more. âDost mean to tell me that thy heart is in this?â

âIâindeed, dadda,â stammered Janice, colouring, âuntilâ until this moment I thought ât was only for yours and
mommyâs sakesâthough at times puzzled byâby I know not what âbut nowââ

âWell, out with it!â ordered the squire, as his daughter hesitated.

Janice faltered, then hurried to where her father sat, and, throwing herself on her knees, buried her face in his
waistcoat. Something she said, but very sharp ears it needed to resolve the muffled sounds into the words,
âOh, dadda, Iâm afraid that I care for him more than I thought.â

âWhat!â for a third time demanded Mr. Meredith. ââT is not possible I hear ye aright, girl. Why, a
nine-months ago ye were beseeching me, with your arms about my neck, to fulfil my word to Phil.â

âBut that was because I feared Lord Clowes,â eagerly explained Janice, with her face withdrawn from its
screen; âand then I did not loveâor at least did not dream that I did.â

"Pox me, but I believe Clowes is right when he says the sex are without stability,â growled the squire,
irascibly. âPut this fellow out of your thoughts, and remember that ye were promised long since.â

âOh, dadda, I want to be dutiful, and obedient I promise to be, but you would not have me marry with my
heart given elsewhere. You could not be so cruel orââ

âCease such bibble-babble, Jan. âT is for your own good I am acting. Not merely is this fellow wholly beneath
ye in birth and fortune, besides a rebel to our king, but there are facts about him of which ye have not
cognisance that should serve to rouse your pride.â

âWhat?â

âWhat say ye to an intimacy twixt this same Brereton and Mrs. Loring?â

With the question the girl was on her feet, yet with down-hung head. âHeâI know he does not care for her,â
she declared.

âYe know nothing of the kind,â retorted the squire. âI bear in my pocket a letter from her to him of so private
a nature that she would not trust it to a flag, because then it must be read, which Lord Clowes brought to me
with the request that I would in some way smuggle it to him.â

âThat means little,â said Janice.

âAnd what say ye to his meeting her in New York, for that is the purpose of her letter to him?â

âHow know you that?â cried Janice.

LI A FAREWELL AND A WELCOME 254

âBecause she writ on the outside that the commander at Paulus Hook had been sent orders to pass him to New
York.â

âThat proves no wrong on his part,â answered the girl, her head proudly erect. âNor will I believe any of
him.â And without further words she went from the room. But though she went to bed, she tossed restless and
wakeful till the sun rose.

LII
SCANT WELCOME FOR MAN AND BEAST
The concealment of the master of Greenwood proved easy affair, for it was now the harvest season and the
neighbouring farmers were far too engaged by their own interests to have thought of anything else, while the
four miles was distance sufficient to deter the villagers from keeping an eye on the daily household life. For
their own comfort, a place of concealment was arranged for the squire in the garret behind the big loom; but
thus assured of a retreat, he spent his time on the second floor, his only precautions being to avoid the
windows in daylight hours and to keep Clarion at hand to give warning of any interloper.

In the next few days Mrs. Meredith twice reverted to the subject of their midnight discussion, but each time
only to find her husband unyieldingly persistent that Janice was pledged to Philemon, and that if this bar did
not exist, he would never countenance Breretonâs suit. As for the girl, she shunned all allusion to the matter,
taking refuge in a proud silence.

In September an unexpected event brought the difficulty to a crisis. One evening, after the work of the day
was over, as they sat in Mrs. Meredithâs room, waiting for the dusk to deepen enough for beds to become
welcome, a creak of the stairs set all three to listening, and brought Clarion to his feet. Though no repetition of
the sound followed, the dog, after a momentâs attention, dashed out of the room and was heard springing and
jumping about, with yelps betokening joyful recognition of some one. Reassured by this, yet wishing to know
more, Janice hurried into the hall. Coming from the half-light, it was too dark for her to distinguish anything,
so she was forced to grope her way to the stairs; but other eyes were keener, and Janice, without warning, was
encompassed by a manâs arms, which drew her to him that his lips might press an eager kiss upon hers.

âWho is it?â whispered the pilferer, after the theft.

âOh, Colonel Brereton!â exclaimed the girl, in an undertone; âI knew at once, butââ

âForgive me if I frightened you, sweetheart,â begged the officer, softly. âI could not resist the impulse to
surprise you, and so tied my horse down the road a bit, that I might steal in upon you unaware.â

âBut what brings you?â questioned the girl, anxiously.

Brereton, with a touch of irritation, answered: âAnd you can ask? Even my vanity is forced to realise you
waste little love on me that you need explanation. Sixty miles and over I have rid to-day solely that I might
bide the night here, and not so much as a word of welcome do you give me. But I vow you shall love me some
day even as I love you; that you too shall long for sight of me when I am away, and caress me as fondly when
I return.â

âI did not mean that I was not glad to see you,â protested the maiden; âbutâI thought I thought you could not
leave the army."

LII SCANT WELCOME FOR MAN AND BEAST 255

âKnow then, madam,â banteringly explained the lover, âthat the court-martial which has been trying Lee for
his conduct at Monmouth has come to a verdict, which required transmission to Congress, for confirmation,
and as I enjoy nothing better than two hundred and forty miles of riding in September heats and dust, I fairly
went on my knees to his Excellency for permission to bear it. And now do you ask why I wished it? Do I not
deserve something to lighten the journey? Ah, my sweet, if you care for me a little, prove it by once returning
me one of my kisses!â

âWith whom art thou speaking, daughter?â demanded Mrs. Meredith, losing patience at the continuance of the
dialogue she could just realise.

ââT is I, John Brereton, Mrs. Meredith,â spoke up the intruder, âcome in search of a nightâs lodgings.â

[Illustration: âI love you for your honesty, Janice.â]

The information was enough to make the squire forget prudence, in the spleen it aroused. âHave done with
your whispered prittle-prattle, Jan, and let me have sight of this fellow,â he called angrily.

âMr. Meredith! you here?â cried the officer, springing to the doorway, to make sure that his ears did not
deceive him.

âAy, and no wonder ât is a sad surprise to ye,â went on Mr. Meredith, irascibly. âThere shall be no more
stolen interviewsâay, or kissesâfrom henceforth, ye Jerry Sneak! Come out of the hall, Janice, and have done
with this courting by stealth.â

âI call Heaven to witness,â retorted Jack, hotly, âif once I have acted underhand; and you have no rightââ

âPooh! ât is not for a jail-bird and bond-servant and rebel to lay down the right and wrong to Lambert
Meredith.â

âOh, daddaââ expostulatingly began Janice.

âWhat is more,â continued the father, regardless of her protest, âIâll have ye know that I take your
behind-back wooing of my daughter as an insult, and will none of it.â

âIs it prudent, Lambert, needlessly to offend Colonel Brereton?â deprecated Mrs. Meredith.

âAy. Let him give me up to the authorities,â sneered the husband. ââT will be all of a piece with his other
doings.â

âTo such an imputation I refuse to make denial,â said Brereton, proudly; âbut be warned, sir, by the trials for
treason now going on in Jersey and Pennsylvania, what fate awaits you if you are captured. Even I could not
save you, I fear, after your taking office from the king, if you were caught thus.â

âWait till ye âre asked, and weâll see who first needs help, ye or I,â retorted the squire. âMeantime understand
that Iâll not have ye at Greenwood, save as a bond-servant. My girl is promised to a man of property and
respectability, and is to be had by no servant who dare not so much as let the world know who were his father
and mother!â

LII SCANT WELCOME FOR MAN AND BEAST 256

It was now too dark to distinguish anything, so the others did not see how Breretonâs face whitened. For a
moment he was silent, then in a voice hoarsely strident he said: âNo man but you could speak thus and not
pay the full penalty of his words; and since you take so low an advantage of my position, further relations
with you are impossible. Janice, choose between me and your father, for there can be but the one of us in your
future life.â

âOh, Jack,â cried the girl, imploringly, âyou cannotâif you love me, you cannot ask such a thing of me.â

âHe puts it well,â asserted Mr. Meredith. âDost intend to obey me, child, orââ

âOh, dadda,â chokingly moaned Janice, âyou know I have promised obedience, and never will I be undutiful,
butââ

The aide, not giving her time to complete the sentence, vehemently exclaimed, ââT is as I might have
expected! Lover good enough I am when you are in peril or want, but once saved, I am quickly taught that
your favours are granted from policy and not from love.â

ââT is not so,â denied the girl, indignantly yet miserably; âIââ

âBe still, Jan,â ordered the father. âThink ye, sir, Lambert Meredithâs daughter would ever bring herself to
wed a no-name and double-name fellow such as ye? Here is a letter I fetched to ye from thatâMrs. Loring:
take it and go to her. Sheâs the fit company for gentry of your breed, and not my girl.â

âBeg of me forgiveness on your deathbed, or on mine, and Iâll not pardon you the words you have just
spoken,â thundered the officer; âand though you stand on the gallows itself I will not stir finger to save you.
Once for all, Janice, take choice between us.â

ââT is an option you have no right to force upon me,â responded the girl, desperately.

âAy, pay no heed to what he says, Jan. Hand him this letter and let him go.â

âIf he wants it, he must take it himself,â cried Janice. âIâll not touch her letter.â

The indignant loathing in the tone of the speaker was too clearly expressed not to be understood, and Brereton
replied to it rather than to her words. âI tried to speak to you of herâto tell you the whole wretched story, when
last I saw you, but I could not bring myself in such hapâat such an hourâthe moment was too untimelyâand so
I did not. Little I suspected that you already knew the facts of my connection with her.â

âDespite the proof I myself had, I have ever refused to credit when told by others what you have just owned,â
declared the girl. âNor will I listen to you. From the first I scorned and hated her, and now wish never to hear
of the shameful creature again.â

Without a word the officer passed into the hall, and began the descent. Before he had reached the foot of the
stairs Janice was at its head.

âYouâll not go without a good-by, Jack,â she pleaded. âObey dadda I oughtâbutâOh, JackâI willâif you will
but come backâYes, I will kiss you.â

Brereton halted and clutched the banister, as if to prevent either departure or return, and could the girl have
seen the look on his face she would have been in his arms before he had time to conquer himself. But in doubt
as to what the pause indicated, she stood waiting, and after a momentâs struggle Jack strode through the

LII SCANT WELCOME FOR MAN AND BEAST 257

hallway and was gone. So long as his footsteps could be heard Janice stood listening to them, but when they
had died out of hearing she went into her own room, and the parents heard the bolt shot.

There was something in the girlâs eyes the next morning which prevented either father or mother from
recurring to the scene, and time did not make it easier; for Janice, with a proudly sad face, did her tasks in an
almost absolute silence, which told more clearly than words her misery. Probably the matter would have
eventually been reopened, but two days brought a new difficulty which gave both Mr. and Mrs. Meredith
something else for thought.

Its first warning was from the hound, who roused his master, as he dozed in an easy-chair one sleepy
afternoon, by a growl, and the squireâs own ears served to tell him that horsemen were entering the gate. The
women on the floor below also heard the sounds, and with a call to make sure that the refugee was seeking his
hiding-place, the mother and daughter hurried to the front door to learn what the incursion might portend.

From the porch they could see a half-dozen riders in uniform, who had drawn rein just inside the gateway,
while yet another, accompanied by two dogs, rode up to where they were standing.

ââT is General Lee,â exclaimed Mrs. Meredith, as he came within recognising distance. âProbably he wishes a
nightâs lodging.â

It was far from what the officer wanted, as it proved; for when he had come within good speaking distance he
called angrily, âHo! ye are there, are ye, hussy? Still busily seeking, I suppose, to be a pick-thanks with those
in power by casting ridicule on those they are caballing to destroy.â

âI know not the cause for thy extraordinary words, General Lee,â replied Mrs. Meredith, with much dignity,
âand can only conclude that a warm afternoon has tempted thee into a too free use of the bottle.â

âBah!â ejaculated Lee. âMy bicker is not with ye, but with your girl, who, it seems, has a liking for mischief
and slander.â

âI am ignorant to what thee refers, sir, and cannot believeââ began the mother.

âDeny if you can that she limned the caricature of me which was handed about the theatre, and made me and
my dogs the laugh of the town for a week?â interrupted Lee. âOnly three days since I had a letter from a
friend in Philadelphia, telling me a journal of hers had been examined by the council, and that therein she
confessed it as her work.â

âIndeed, General Lee,â said Mrs. Meredith, apologetically, âthe child meant noââ

âI tell you Iâm not to be mollified by any womanâs brabble,â blustered Lee. âI know ât is part and parcel of an
attempt to ruin my character. Even to this silly witling, all are endeavouring to break me down by one
succession of abominable, damnable lies. The very court that has been trying me would not believe that white
was white as regards me, or that black was black as regards this G. Washington, whom the army and the
people consider as an infallible divinity, when he is but a bladder of emptiness and pride. I am now on my
way to get their verdict against me, and in favour of this Great Gargantua, or Lama Babekâfor I know not
which to call himâset aside, and I stopped in passing to tell you that Iââ

What the general intended was not to be known, for at this point there came that which turned his thoughts.
One of his dogs, an English spaniel, neither interested in Janiceâs caricature of Lee, nor in Leeâs abuse of
Washington, took advantage of his masterâs preoccupation to steal into the house,â a proceeding which
Clarion evidently resented, for suddenly from within came loud yaps and growls, which told only too plainly

LII SCANT WELCOME FOR MAN AND BEAST 258

that if there was no protector of the household from the anger of the general, there was one who objected to
the intrusion of his dog. Scarcely had the sounds of the fight begun than shrill yelps of pain indicated that one
participant was getting very much the worst of it, and which, was quickly shown by the general roaring an
oath and a command that they stop the âmurder of my Caesar.â The din was too great within, however, for
Clarion to hear the order that both ladies shouted to him, though it is to be questioned if he would have heeded
them if he had; and with another oath Lee was out of his saddle and into the house, his riding-whip raised to
take summary vengeance.

Just as the general entered the hallway, the spaniel, wriggling free from the houndâs onslaught, fled upstairs,
closely pursued by the other dog, and after the two stamped the officer. On the second floor the fugitive
faltered, to cast an agonised glance behind him, but sight of Clarionâs open mouth was enough, and up the
garret stairs he fled. At the top he once more paused, looking in all directions for a haven of refuge; and
seeing a man in the act of retreating behind the loom in the corner, he fled to him for protection. When Lee
entered the garret, only Clarion, every bristle on end, was in view, standing guard over a corner of the room;
and striding to him, the general lashed him twice with his riding-whip ere the transgressor, with howls of
surprised pain, fled. Then Lee peered behind the loom in search of his favourite.

âDevil seize me!â he exclaimed. âWhat have we here? Ho! a good find,â he jeered, as he made out the squire.
He rushed to one of the windows, threw it up, and called a summons to the group of horsemen, then came
back as the squire crawled from his retreat. âLittle did I reck,â gloated Lee, âwhen I read at the tavern this
very day the governorâs proclamation attainting you, that yeâd come to be my prize. And poetic justice it is
that I should have the chance to avenge in you the insult of your daughter.â

LIII
UNDER SHADOW OF THE GALLOWS
No prayer the women could make served to sway Lee from his purpose, and without delay the prisoner was
mounted behind one of the escort, taken to Brunswick, and handed over to the authorities. When Mrs.
Meredith and Janice, who followed on foot, reached the town, it was to find that the squire was to be carried
to Trenton the next morning. A plea was made that they should be permitted to accompany him, but it was
refused, and a bargain was finally made with the publican to carry them.

The following evening saw them all in Trenton, Mr. Meredith in jail, and the ladies once more at the
Drinkersâ. It was too late for anything to be attempted that night; but early the next day Mrs. Meredith, with
Mr. Drinker, called on Governor Livingston to plead for mercy.

âHad he come in and delivered himself up, there might have been some excuse for special lenience,â the
Governor argued; âbut captured as he was, there can be none. The people have suffered so horribly in the last
two years that they wish a striking example made of some prominent Tory, and will not brook a reasonless
pardon. He must stand his trial under the statute and proclamation, and of that there can be but one outcome.â

When the suppliants returned with this gloomy prediction, Janice, who held herself accountable for the
calamity, primarily by having secured the appointment of her father, and still more by drawing the caricature
which had brought such disaster, was so overcome that for a time the motherâs anxieties were transferred to
her. Realising this, after the first wild outburst of grief and horror were over, Janice struggled desperately to
regain self-control; and when the two had gone to bed, she successfully resisted her longing to give way once
more to tears, though no sleep came to her the night through. Yet, if she brought pale cheeks and tired eyes to
the breakfast table, there was determination rather than despair in her face and manner, as if in her long vigil
she had thought out some deliverance.

LIII UNDER SHADOW OF THE GALLOWS 259

In what this consisted was shown by her whispered request to Mr. Drinker, the moment the meal had been
despatched, to learn for her if Joe Bagby was in town, and to arrange for an interview. Within the hour her
emissary returned with the member of Assembly.

âI suppose you have heard, Mr. Bagby, of my fatherâs capture,â she said, without even the preliminary of a
greeting.

âYes, miss,â said Bagby, awkwardly and shamefacedly; âât is news that did nât stop travelling, and ât was all
over Trenton before heâd been an hour in town. One way or another, he and I have nât got on well, but I did
nât wish him or you any such bad luck, and Iâm real sorry it âs come about.â

âI wished to see you to askâto beg,â went on the girl, âthat you would persuade the Governor to set him free.â

âBut heâd not have the right to do that,â replied Joe. âHe only can pardon the squire after the trial. And right
now I want to say that if you have nât settled on any lawyer, I will take the case and do my best for your dad,
and let you take your own time as to paying me.â

âOh, Mr. Bagby,â pleaded Janice, âMr. Drinker is sure that he will be convicted of treason. Can you not do
something to stop it?â

âI am afraid he is right, miss. About his only chance will be for the Governor to pardon him.â

âBut only yesterday he said he should not,â wailed Janice. âCan you not persuade him?â

âGuess ât would be only be a waste of my time,â answered Joe. âHe and I have disagreed over some
appointments, and we are nât much of friends in consequence. But aside from that, heâs a great trimmer for
popularity, and the people just now are desperate set on having the Tories punished.â

âDonât say that,â besought the girl. âSurely, ifâifâ if I promise to marry you, cannot you save him?â

âIf ât was a bridge to be built, or a contract for uniforms, or something of that sort, Iâd have real influence in
the Assembly; but I am afraid I canât fix this matter. The Governorâs a consarned obstinate man most times,
and I donât believe heâll listen to any one in this. What I can do, though, if youâll just do what you offered,
miss, will be to save your property from all risk of being taken from you.â

âDonât speak of it to me,â cried Janice, wildly. âDo you think we could care for such a thing now?â

âProperty âs property,â said Joe, âand ât is nât a good thing to forget, no matter what happens. However, that
can wait. Now, about my being your lawyer?â

âI will speak to my mother,â replied the girl, sadly, âand let you know her wishes.â And the words were so
evidently a dismissal that Bagby took his departure.

Without pausing to mourn over the failure, Janice procured paper and pen, and set about a letter; but it was
long in the writing, for again and again the pages were torn up. Finally, in desperation, she let her quill run on,
regardless of form, grammar, erasures, or the blurs caused by her own tears, until three sheets had been filled
with incoherent prayers and promises. âIf only you can save him,â one read, ânothing you ask of me, even to
disobeying him, even to running off with you, will I refuse. I will be your very slave.â If ever a proud girl
humbled herself, Janice did so in this appeal.

LIII UNDER SHADOW OF THE GALLOWS 260

The reading of the missive was begun the next day by an officer seated in the âpublicâ of the City Tavern of
Philadelphia, but after a very few lines he rose and carried it to his own room, and there completed it. Then
folding it up, he thrust it into his pocket, once more descended the stairs, and inquired of the tavern-keeper:
ââT was reported that General Lee came to town yesterday; dost know where he lodges?â

âI hearn he was at the Indian King.â

âThanks,â responded the questioner, and then asked: âOne thing more. Hast a stout riding-whip you can lend
me for a few minutes?â

âAy, Colonel Brereton. Take any that suits you from the rack.â

The implement secured, the officer set out down the street, with a look that boded ill for somebody.

Five minutes later, with one hand held behind his back, he stood in the doorway of the public room of another
ordinary, arriving just in time to hear a man proclaim in stentorian tones:â

âI tell ye, any other general in the world than General Howe would have beat General Washington; and any
other general in the world than General Washington would have beat General Howe.â

âHush!â said a man. âHere is one of his aides.â

"Think ye I care?â roared Lee. âColonel Brereton and all others of his staff know too well the truth of what I
say to dare resent it. The more that hear me, the better.â

Brereton strode forward to within three feet of Lee. âYou owe your immunity,â he said, struggling to speak
quietly, âto the very man you are abusing, for not one of his family but would have challenged you after your
insulting letters to him, had not General Washington commanded us all to refrain, lest, if any of his staff
called you out, it should seem like his personal persecution. Your conduct to him was outrage enough to make
me wish to kill you, but now you have given me a stronger reason, and this time there is no high-minded man
to save you from my vengeance, you cur!â There was a quick motion of Jackâs arm, a swishing sound, and the
whip was furiously lashed full across the generalâs face.

Lee, white with rage, save where a broad red welt stretched from ear to chin, staggered to his feet, pulling at
his sword as he rose, but his three companions united to restrain him.

âTake your satisfaction like a gentleman, sir,â insisted one, âand not like a tavern broiler.â

âI shall see Major Franks within the hour,â remarked Brereton, âand have no doubt he will represent me. But
if you wish a meeting, you must act promptly, for I shall not remain in the city later than noon to-morrow.â

It was just after dawn the next morning that five horsemen turned off from the Frankford road into a meadow,
and struck across it to a piece of timber on the other side. One of them was left with the horses, and the
remainder took their way to an open spot, where the trees had been felled. Here the four paired off; and the
couples held a brief consultation.

âI care not what the terms be,â Brereton ended, âso long as you secure the privilege of advancing, for one of
us goes not off the field unhurt.â

The seconds held a conference, and then separated. Each gave his principal a pistol, and stationed him so that
they stood some twenty paces apart.

LIII UNDER SHADOW OF THE GALLOWS 261

âGentlemen, with your weapons pointed groundward, on the word, you will walk toward each other, and fire
when it pleases you,â ordered Major Edwards. âAre you ready? Go!â

The duellists, with their pistol hands dropped, walked steadily forward, one, two, three, four, five strides.

ââT is murder, not satisfaction, they seek!â ejaculated Franks, below his breath.

Another and yet another step each took, until there was not twenty feet between the two; then Lee halted and
coolly raised his arm; one more step Brereton took as he did so, and not pausing to steady his body, his pistol
was swung upward so quickly that it flashed first. Leeâs went off a second later, and both men stood facing
each other, the smoking barrels dropped, and each striving to see through the smoke of his own discharge.
Thus they remained for a moment, then Lee dropped his weapon, staggered, and with the words, âI am hit,â
went on one knee, and then sank to the ground.

Brereton walked back to his original position, and stood calmly waiting the report of his second, who, with
Edwards, rushed to the wounded manâs assistance.

âHe is struck in the groin,â Franks presently informed him; âand while not dangerous, ât will be a month
before heâs good for anything.â

âYou mean good for nothing,â replied Jack. âI meant to make it worse, but must rest content. As I told you, I
ride north without delay, so will not even return to the city. Thank you, David, for helping me, and good-by.â

Five hours later, Lee was lying in the Pennsylvania hospital, and Brereton was riding into Trenton. Without
the loss of a moment, the aide sought an interview with the Governor, clearly with unsatisfactory results; for
when he left that official his face was anxious, and not even tarrying to give his mare rest, he mounted and
spurred northward, spending the whole night in the saddle. Pausing at Newark only to breakfast, he secured a
fresh horse, and reached Fredericksburg a little before nightfall. Seeking out the commander-in-chief, he
delivered certain papers he carried; but before the general could open them, he said:â

âYour Excellency, I wish speech with you on a matter of life and death. To no other man in the world would I
show this letter, but I beg of you to read it, sir, and do what you can for my sake and for theirs.â

Washington took the sheets held out to him and slowly read them from beginning to end. ââT is a sad tale the
poor girl tells,â he said when he had finished; âbut, my boy, however much I may pity and wish to aid them,
my duty to the cause to which I have dedicated my lifeââ

âAh, your Excellency,â burst out Jack, âin just this one instance ât will surely not matter. A word from you to
Governor Livingstonââ

Washington shook his head. âI have ever refrained from interfering in the civil line,â he said, âand one
breaking of the rule would destroy the fabric I have reared with so much pains. If I have gained influence with
the people, with the army, and with the State officials, it is because I have ever refused to allow personal
considerations to shape my conduct; and that reputation it is my duty to maintain at all hazards, that what I
advise and urge shall never be open to the slightest suspicion of any other motive than that of the public good.
It is a necessity which has caused me pain in the past, and which grieves me at this moment, but I hold a trust.
Do not make its performance harder than it need be.â

âDo I not deserve something at your hands, sir? Faithfully I have served you to my uttermost ability.â

LIII UNDER SHADOW OF THE GALLOWS 262

âYou ask what cannot be granted, Brereton; and from this refusal I must not recede. Now leave me, my boy,
to read the despatches you have brought.â

There was that in the generalâs manner which made impossible further entreaty, and the aide obeyed his
behest. Yet such was the depth of his concern that he made a second appeal, two days later, when he brought a
bunch of circular letters to the State governors, concerning quotas of provisions, which he had written, to his
chief for signature.

âWill you not, sir,â he implored, ârelent and add a postscript to Governor Livingston in favour of mercy for
Mr. Meredith?â

âI have given you my reasons, Brereton, why I must not, and all further petitions can but pain us both.â
Washington signed the series, and taking the sand-box, sprinkled the wet ink on each in turn. âSeal them, and
see that they fail not to get into the post,â he ordered calmly. Yet as he rose to leave the room, he laid his hand
affectionately on Jackâs shoulder, and said: âI grieve not to do it, my boy, for your sake and for hers.â

The aide took the chair the general had vacated, and began mechanically the closing of the letters; but when
that to the Governor of New Jersey was reached, he paused in the process. After a little, he took from his
pocket Janiceâs frantic supplication, and reread it, his face displaying his response to her suffering. âAnd ten
words would save him,â he groaned. His eye sought once more the unsealed letter, and stared at it fixedly. âAt
worst it will be my life, and that is worth little to me and nothing to any one else!â He snatched a pen hastily,
dipped it in the ink, but as he set the tip to the paper, paused, his brow clouded. âTo trick him after all his
generosity!â For a trice Jack hesitated. âHe stands too high to be injured by it,â he exclaimed. âIt hurts not the
cause, while ât will kill her if they hang him.â Again he set pen to the paper, and wrote a postscript of four
lines below Washingtonâs name. ââT is the devilâs work, or her good angelâs, that I had the writing of the
letters, so the penmanship agrees,â he muttered, as he folded and sealed it. Gathering up the batch, he gave a
reckless laugh. âI said Iâd not lift finger to save him from the rope, and here I am taking his place on the
gallows. Well, ât is everything to do it for her, scorn and insult me as they may, and to die with the memory
that my arms have held and my lips caressed her.â

LIV
A GAIN AND A LOSS
It was two days of miserable doubt which Janice spent after despatching her letter to Brereton. Then
something Mr. Drinker told his daughter brought some cheer to the girl.

âFriend Penrhyn informed me that Colonel Brereton rode into town this afternoon, Tabitha,â he said, at the
supper table; âyet, though I went to the tavern to bespeak his company here this evening, I could not get word
of him. âT is neglectful treatment, indeed, of his old friends, that three times in succession he should pass
through without dropping in upon us.â

âHe may still come, father,â suggested Tabitha; and more than she spent the evening in a state of expectancy.
But bedtime arrived; and the morrow came and went without further news of him who had now become
Janiceâs sole hope, and then she learned that he had ridden northward.

âI knew his temper was hot,â she sobbed in her own room, âbut never did I believe he could be so cruel as to
come and go without word or sign.â

From the trial, which occurred but three days after this crushing disappointment, the public were excluded, not
even Mrs. Meredith and Janice being permitted to attend. The result, therefore, was first brought them by

LIV A GAIN AND A LOSS 263

Bagby, who, though his services had been refused by Mr. Meredith, had succeeded in being present.

âThe squireâs lawyer,â he told them, âwas nât up to a trick or two that I had thought out, and which might
have done something; but he made a pretty good case, if he could nât save him. Morrisâs charge was enough
to convict, but every juryman was ready to vote âGuiltyâ before the Chief Justice had so much as opened his
mouth.â

âIs there nothing to do?â cried Mrs. Meredith.

âIâll see the Governor, and Iâll get my friends to see him,â promised Bagby; âbut donât you go to raising your
hopes, for there is nât one chance in a hundred now.â

Once again Mrs. Meredith sought interview with Livingston, but the Governor refused to even see her; and
both Mr. Drinkerâs and Bagbyâs attempts succeeded little better, for they could only report that he declined to
further discuss the matter, and that the execution was set for the following Friday.

Abandoning all hope, therefore, Mrs. Meredith wrote a letter, merely begging that they might spend the last
night with Mr. Meredith in the jail; and when the next morning she received a call from the Governor, she
only inferred that it was in relation to her plea.

âIt has been far from my wish, Mrs. Meredith,â Livingston said, âto bring suffering to you more than to any
one else, and the position I have taken as regards your husband was only that which I deemed most for the
good of the State, and most in accord with public opinion. The vipers of our own fireside require punishment;
your husband had made himself one of the most conspicuous and unpopular of these by the office he held
under the king, and no reason could I discover why he should not reap the punishment he fitly deserved. But
this morning a potent one was furnished me, for I received a letter from General Washington, speaking in high
terms of Mr. Meredith, and expressing a hope that we will not push his punishment to the extreme of the law.
It is the first time his Excellency has ever ventured an opinion in a matter outside of his own concern, and I
conclude that he believes stringent justice in this case will injure more than aid our cause; and as the use of his
name furnishes me with an explanation that will satisfy the Assembly and people of this State, I can be less
rigorous. That you should not endure one hour more of anxiety than need be, I have hurried to you, to tell you
that I shall commute his sentence to imprisonment with the other political prisoners in Virginia.â

The scene of gratitude and joy that ensued was not describable, and some hours passed before either mother or
daughter became sufficiently composed to take thought of the future. Then, by permission of the jailer, they
saw Mr. Meredith and discussed the problem before them. Neither wife nor daughter could bear the thought of
again being separated from the squire, and begged so earnestly to be allowed to share the half-captivity,
half-exile, that had been decreed him, that he could not deny them, the more that his own heart-strings in
reality drew the same way, and only his better judgment was opposed to it.

ââT will be a hard journey, wife,â he urged, âand little comfort weâre like to find at the end of it. For me there
can be no escape, but ât is not necessary that ye should bear it, for ât is to be hoped ye can live on at
Greenwood, as ye have already.â

âWe should suffer more, Lambert, in being separated from thee.â

âOh, dadda, nothing could be worse than that,â cried Janice, her arms about his neck.

âHave your way, then,â finally acceded their lord and master.

LIV A GAIN AND A LOSS 264

This settled, they set about such preparations as were possible. From Mr. Drinker a loan of five thousand
dollarsâ equal to a hundred pounds, goldâwas secured, and a bargain struck with a farmer to bring from
Greenwood such supplies of clothes as Mrs. Meredith wrote to Sukey to pack and send. To most the prospect
would not have been a cheering one, but after the last few days it seemed truly halcyon, and Janice was
scarcely able to contain her happiness. She poured her warmest gratitude and thanks out in a letter to
Washington, which would have surprised him not a little had he ever received it, but the mail in which it went
was captured, and it was a British officer in New York who ultimately read it. Nor did this effusion satisfy
her.

âOh, mommy,â she joyfully bubbled, as they were preparing for bed, âwas there ever a greater or nobler or
kinder man than General Washington?â

And though the first frost of the season was forming crystals on the panes, she knelt down in her short
night-rail on a lambâs wool rug, so small that her little feet rested on the cold boards, and prayed for the
general as he had probably never been prayed for,âprayed until she was shivering so that her mother interfered
and ordered her to come to bed.

Her prayers were far more needed by some one else. From the commission of his wrong, Brereton made it a
point to meet the post-rider as he trotted up to headquarters each afternoon, and on the third day after the
action of the Governor, he found in the mail a letter which told him of the success of his trick. While he was
still reading, Colonel Hamilton came to him with a message that Washington desired his presence and,
squaring his shoulders and setting his mouth as if in preparation for an ordeal, Jack hastened to obey, though,
as he came to the closed doorway he hesitated for a moment before he knocked, much as if his courage failed
him.

Upon entrance, he found his superior striding up and down the room, a newspaper in his hand, and without
preliminary word the general gave expression to his obvious anger.

âI would have you know, Colonel Brereton,â sternly he began, âthat I am not the man to overlook
disobedience of my orders, nor pass over, without a rebuke, such disrespect as you have shown me."

âI do not deny that your Excellency has cause for complaint,â replied Jack, steadily; âand in acting as I did I
was fully prepared for whatever results might flow from it, even the penalty of life itself; but, believe me, sir,
my chief grief will ever be the having deceived you, and my real punishment can be inflicted by no
court-martial you may order, but will be in the loss of your trust and esteem.â

âYou speak in riddles, sir,â responded Washington, halting in his walk. âCause for anger I have richly, for, as
I told my whole family, any challenge they might send General Lee would, by the public, be ascribed to
persecution. But you know as well as I that your duel with him is no offence to submit to a court-martial, and
that you should pretend that I have any such recourse is adding insincerity to the original fault. You haveââ

âThat, sir, is a charge I indignantly deny,â interrupted Jack, warmly, âand I was referringââ

âNo denial can justify your conduct, sir,â broke in Washington, wrathfully. âYou have exposed me to the
criticism and misapprehension of the public. By your disregard of my orders and my wishes, you have
deservedly forfeited all right to my favour or my affection.â

âYour Excellency forgetsââ

âI forget nothing,â thundered the general. ââT is you have forgotten the respect and obedience due me from all
my family andââ

LIV A GAIN AND A LOSS 265

âThink you an aide is but a slave,â retorted Brereton, hotly, âand that he possesses no right of independent
action? Nor did I conceive that your Excellency would ever judge me unheard. I didââ

âThe case is too palpable forââ

âYet misjudge me you have, for I did not challenge Lee because he had insulted you, but because he was
shamefully persecuting the woman I love.â

Washington, who had resumed his angry pacing of the room, once again halted. âExplain your meaning, sir.â

âIn your heat, your Excellency has clearly forgot the tale Miss Meredithâs letter told of General Leeâs conduct
as regards herself and her father. With the feeling I bear for her, human nature could not brook such
behaviour, and it was that for which I challenged him.â

The general stood silent for a moment, then said, âI have been too hasty in my action, Brereton, and have
drawn a conclusion that was not justified. I owe you an apology for my words, and trust that this
acknowledgment will end the misunderstanding.â He offered his hand, as he ended, to the aide.

âI thank your Excellency,â answered Jack, âfor your prompt reparation, but before accepting it and taking
your hand, sir, it is my painful necessity to tell you that I have fully merited all the anger you have expressed.
Guiltless as I am of fault as regards General Lee, I have committed a far greater offence against you,âa wrong,
sir, which, done with however much deliberation, has caused me unending pain and remorse.â

âExplain yourself, my boy,â said Washington, kindly.

âDespite your decision, sir, I added a postscript in your letter to Governor Livingston touching upon the case
of Mr. Meredith, and made you express a good opinion of him and a recommendation that he be dealt with
leniently. I now hold in my hand a letter from a Trenton friend informing me that this recommendation
induced the Governor to commute the death sentence into imprisonment. It is but the news I awaited before
informing your Excellency of my breach of trust; and I should have made full confession to you within the
hour, had you not sent for me, as I supposed, to charge me with this very treachery. And ât was this of which I
was thinking when I spoke expectingly of a court-martial.â

During the whole explanation, Washington had stood fixedly, his brows knit, and when the aide paused, he
said nothing for a minute; then he asked:â

âHas there been aught in the past, sir, to have made me merit from you such a stab?â

âNone, sir,â answered Jack, gravely. âAnd whatever reason I can find for the action in my own heart, there is
nothing I can offer in its defence to you.â

Washington sat down at his desk and leaned his head on his hand. âIs it not enough,â he said, âthat Congress
is filled with my enemies, that the generals on whom I must depend are scheming my ruin and their own
advancement, but that even within my own family I cannot find those who will be faithful to me? My God! is
there no one I can trust?â

âYour Excellencyâs every word,â said Jack, with tears in his eyes, âcuts me to the heart, the more that nothing
you can say can increase the blame I put upon myself. I beg of you, sir, to believe me when I say that, be your
grief what it may, it can never equal mine. And I beg that if my past relations to you plead ever so little for a
merciful judgment of my conduct, you will remember that my betrayal was committed from no want of
affection for you, but because one there was, and but one alone, whom I loved better.â

LIV A GAIN AND A LOSS 266

Washington rose and faced Brereton, his self-control regained. âYour lapse of duty to the cause we are
engaged in, sir, and my sense of it, make it out of the question that I should ever again trust you; it is therefore
impossible for me longer to retain you upon my staff. But your loyalty and past service speak loudly in your
favour, and I shall not, therefore, push your public punishment further than to demand your resignation from
my family, and so soon as there is a vacancy among the officers of the line you will take your place according
to the date of your commission. The wrong you have done me personally is of a different nature, and ends
from this moment the affection I have borne you and such friendship as has existed between us.â

LV
PRISONERS OF WAR
The Governor had warned the Merediths that the removal to Charlottesville must await the chance of an
empty army transport, or other means of conveyance, and for more than a month they waited, not knowing at
what hour the order would come.

Finally they were told to be ready the following morning; and at daybreak the three, with a guard, were
packed into a hay cart, the larger part of the townsfolk collecting to view their departure. Nor did Mr. Bagby,
who had made a number of calls upon them in the interval, fail to appear for a good-by.

âJust you remember, miss,â he urged, âthat my arguments and General Washingtonâs was what saved your
dad, and that I can still do a lot to save your property. Donât forget either that Iâm going to go on rising. Only
think it over well, and youâll see which side your bread is buttered on, for, if you are mighty good-looking,
you âre no fool.â

âThank you, Mr. Bagby, for everything you have done or tried to do,â replied the girl; and the squire, who had
heard the whole speech, said nothing, though the effort to remain silent was clearly a severe one.

âWhither do we go first?â asked Mrs. Meredith of the driver, after the ferry-boat had left the Jersey shore and
the spectators both behind.

âOur orders is to take you to Reading, anâ hand you over to the officer in charge of the Convention snogers,
pervided the last detachment hev nât left theer; if they hev, we are to lick up till we overtake them.â

âWhat regiment is that?â questioned Janice.

âGuess ye âre a bit green on what âs goinâ on,â chuckled one of the guard. âThem âs poppy-cock, hifalutin,
by-the-grace-of-God anâ King Georgie, come-in-anâ-surrender-afore-we-extirpate-yer, Johnny Burgoyneâs
army, as did a little capitulatinâ themselves. Weâve kepâ âem about Boston till weâve got tired of teaminâ
pork anâ wheat to âem, anâ now weâre takinâ âem to where the pigs anâ wheat grows, to save us money, anâ
to show âem the size of the country they calkerlated to overrun. I guess theyâll write hum that that job âs a
good one to sub-let, after theyâve hoofed it from Cambridge to Charlottesville.â

The departure had been well timed, for when they drove into Reading, about five, long lines of men, garbed in
green or red uniforms, were answering the roll-call as a preliminary to having quarters for the night assigned
to them in the court-house, churches, and school. After much search, the officer in command was found, and
the prisoner turned over to him, to his evident displeasure.

âHeavens!â he complained, âis it not bad enough to move two thousand troops, a third of whom no man can
understand the gibberish of, to say nothing of General de Riedeselâs wife and children, but I must have other
women to look out for? I wish that Governor Livingston would pardon less and hang more!â

LV PRISONERS OF WAR 267

Unpromising as this beginning was, it proved a case of growl and not of bite, for the colonel speedily secured
a nightâs lodging for them in a private house, and the next morning made a place for the two women beside
the driver of one of the carts of the baggage train, the squire being ordered to march on foot with the column.

[Illustration: âDonât move!â]

The journey proved a most trying one. The November rains, which wellnigh turned the roads from aids into
obstacles, so impeded them that frequently they were not able to compass more than six or seven miles in a
day, and it sometimes happened, therefore, that they were not able to reach the village or town on which they
had been billeted, and were compelled to spend the night in the open fields, often with scanty supplies of
provisions as an additional discomfort. From the inhabitants of the villages and farms, too, they met with
more kicks than haâpence. Again and again the people refused to sell anything to those whom they considered
their enemies, and some even denied them the common courtesy of a drink of water. The chief amusement of
the children along the route was to shout opprobrious or derisive epithets as they passed, not infrequently
accompanied with stones, rotten apples, and now and then the still more objectionable egg. The squireâs
opinion of Whiggism went to an even lower pitch, but his womenkind bore it unflinchingly and
uncomplainingly, happy merely in the escape from greater suffering.

As for Janice, she took what came with such merriness and good cheer that she was soon friends not merely
with a number of their fellow-companions in misery, the British and Brunswick officers, but with the officers
of their escort of Continental troops, and they were all quickly vying to do the little they could to add to the
Meredithsâ comfort and ease. Of the miserable lodgings, whether in town or field, they were sure to be given
the least poor; no matter how short were the commons, their needs were supplied; at every halting-place they
received the first firewood cut; and time and again some one of the officers dismounted that Mr. Meredith
might take his place in the saddle for an hour.

The girl made a yet more fortunate acquaintance on a night of especial discomfort and privation, after they
had crossed the Pennsylvania boundary and were well into the semi-wilderness of the Blue Ridge Mountains.
A washed away bridge so delayed their morning progress that they had advanced only a little over five miles,
and were still four miles from their appointed camping ground, when the first snowstorm of the season set in,
and compelled them to bivouac along the road-side. The ration issued to each prisoner on that particular
afternoon consisted of only a half-pound of salt pork and a handful of beans; and as she had frequently done
before, Janice set out to make a tour of the straggling farms of the neighbourhood, in the hope of purchasing
milk, eggs, or other supplies to eke the scanty fare. At the first log cabin she came to she made her request,
and for a moment was hopeful, for the woman replied:â

âYes. I have eggs and milk and chickens, and vegetables in a great plenty, butââ

âAnd what are your prices?â

ââBut not a morsel of anything do you get. You come to our land to kill us and to waste our homes. Now it is
our turn to torment you. I feed no royalists.â

Her second application drew forth an even sterner rebuff, for the housewife, before Janice had said half of her
speech, cried, âBe off with you, you Tory! think you I would give help to such nasty dogs?â

The third attempt was equally futile, for she was told: âNot for a thousand dollars would I give you anything,
and if you would all die of hunger, ât would be so much the better.â

The maiden was long since too accustomed to this treatment to let it discourage her, and in her fourth essay
she was more fortunate. While the woman was refusing, the farmer himself appeared upon the scene, and

LV PRISONERS OF WAR 268

moved by pity, or perhaps by the youth and beauty of the petitioner, vetoed his wifeâs decision, and not
merely filled her pail with milk, but added a small basket of eggs and apples, declining to accept the one
hundred dollars in Continental bills she tendered.

Her quest had taken Janice nearly two miles away from her quarters, and in returning with this wealth she was
compelled to pass the length of the encampment. This brought her presently to a large tent, from which issued
the sobs of a child, intermixed with complaints in French of cold and hunger, with all of which a womanâs
voice was blended, seeking to comfort the weeper.

On impulse, the girl turned aside and looked through the half-closed flap. Within she saw a woman of
something over thirty years of age, with a decidedly charming face, sitting on a camp-stool with a child of
about three years old in her arms and two slightly older children at her feet, from one of whom came the
wails.

âWe do not know each other, Madame de Riedesel,â Janice apologised in the best French she could frame,
âbut Captain Geismar and others have told me so much about you that Iâ Iââ There Janice came to a halt, and
then in English, colouring as she spoke, she went on, ââT is mortifying, but though I thought I had become
quite a rattler in French, the moment I need it, I lose courage.â

âAch!â cried Madame de Riedesel. âNevair think. I speak ze Anglais parfaitement. Continuez.â

âI was passing,â explained Janice, mightily relieved, âand hearing what your little girl was saying, I made
bold to intrude, in the hope that you will let me share my milk and eggs with the children.â As she spoke,
Janice held out to each of the three a rosy-cheeked apple, and the sobs had ended ere her explanation had.

âAh!â cried the woman, âzees must be ze Mees Meredeez whom zay told me was weez ze waggons in ze rear,
and who, zay assure me, was a saint. Zat must you be, to offer your leettle store to divide with me. Too well
haf I learned how difficile it ees to get anyzing from zeese barbarians.â

âThey are hard, madame,â explained Janice, âbecause they deem us foes.â

âBut women cannot be zare enemies, and yet ze women ze worst are. Ma foi! Weez ze army I kept through ze
wilderness, ze bois, from Canada, and not one unkind or insult did I receef, till I came to where zere were zose
of my own sex. Would you beleef it, in Boston ze femme zay even spat at me when I passed zem on ze street.
And since from Cambridge we started, when I haf wished for anyzing, my one prayer zat it shall be a man and
not a woman I must ask it has been. Ze women, I say it weez shame, are ze brutes, and ze men, zay seek to be
gentle, mais, hélas! zay are born of ze women!

Janice, pouring half her milk into an empty bowl that was on the table, and dividing her eggs, smiled archly as
she said, âI fear, then, that my call is not a welcome one, since, hélas! I am a woman.â

The baroness spilled the little girl from lap to floor as she sprang to her feet and clasped the caller in her arms.
âYou are une ange,â she cried,â and I geef you my lofe, not for now, but for ze all time for efer.â

The acquaintance thus begun ripened rapidly. In her gratitude for the kindness, Madame de Riedesel, who had
a roomy calash and a light baggage waggon, insisted that Janice and Mrs. Meredith should quit the springless
army van in the rear and travel henceforth with the advance in one or the other of her vehicles, giving them far
greater ease and comfort. Sometimes the children were sent with the baggage, and the three ladies used the
calash, but more often Janice and Madame de Riedesel rode in it, with a child on each lap, and one
sandwiched in between them, and the squire took the empty seat beside Mrs. Meredith in the waggon.

LV PRISONERS OF WAR 269

A second generosity of the new friend was her quickly offering to share with them the large officerâs marquee
that her husbandâs rank had secured for her, with the comfortable beds that formed a part of her camp
equipment; and as they had hitherto been cramped into a small field tent, with only blankets and dead leaves
laid on the frozen ground to sleep upon, the invitation was a still greater boon. Close packing it was, but the
weather was now so cold that what was lost in space was made up for in warmth.

It was early in January that they finally reached their destination, âan improvised village of log huts, some two
miles from Charlottesville, named Saratoga, from the capitulation that had served to bring it into being; but so
far as the Merediths were concerned, it meant a change rather than a lessening of the privation. The cabin to
which they were assigned consisted of one windowless room, and was without a chimney. They were
necessarily without furniture, their sole stock beyond their own clothing being a few blankets and cooking
utensils, which they had brought with them. Nor were they able to purchase much that they needed at the
neighbouring town, for their cash had been seriously depleted by what they had bought in Trenton, and by the
expenses of the march, while what was left had shrunk in value in the two monthsâ march from fifty dollars to
seventy-five dollars, paper, for one in gold.

Seeking to make the best of it, the three set to work diligently. From a neighbouring mill slabs were procured,
which, being cut the right length and laid on logs, were made to do for beds, and others served to make an
equally rough table. Sections of logs were utilised for chairs, and the squire built a crude fireplace a few feet
from the doorway. At best, however, the discomfort was really very great. Even with the door closed, the
cabin was cold almost beyond the point of endurance, and if it was not left open, the only light that came to
them was through the chinks of the logs. Yet their suffering was far less than that of the troops, for many of
the huts were unfinished when they arrived, and with three feet of snow on the ground, most of them were
compelled to roof their own quarters and even in some cases entirely build them, as a first step to protection.

General de Riedesel, who had gone before his wife with the first detachment, that he might arrange a home in
advance, had rented âColle,â the large house of Philip Mazzei, close to the log barracks. Madame de Riedesel
was therefore at once in possession of comfortable quarters, and upon hearing from Janice how they were
living, she offered her a home with them.

âCome to us, liebling,â she begged. âZe children zay lofe you so zat almost jealous I am; alreaty my goot
husband he says ze Mees Meredeez ees charmant, and Iâah, I neet not tell it, for it tells itself.â

âIf it were right I would, Frederica, and I cannot thank you enough for wanting me; but ever since mommy
had the fever she has not been really strong, and both she and dadda need me. Perhaps though, if you and the
childrenâwhom I dearly loveâtruly like me, you will help me in another way?â

âAnd how?â

âI heard you complaining to Baron de Riedesel yesterday of not being able to get a nurse. Will you not give
me the place, and let my pay be for us all to live in your garret? We will make as little troubleââ

âAch! Why deet I not it think before?â cried the baroness, boxing her own ear. âCochon! Brute! You come,
ma pauvre! Mais not as bonne, non, non.â

âIndeed, Frederica, ât is the only way that we can. We could not live upon you without in some way making a
return, and the paper money with which we furnished ourselves has gone on falling till now ât is worth but a
threepence in the pound, so that we could not hope to pay forââ

âBah! Who asks? You come as our guests; when you had ze plenty of milk and eggs you shared it weez us,
and so now we share our plenty weez you. You, a proud girl, to be a nurse, indeet!â

LV PRISONERS OF WAR 270

ââT is that pride which asks it, my dear. Ah, if you only would let me! Mommy suffers so with the cold, and
has such a frightful cough, that every day I fear to see it become a pneumonia, andââ

âStop! I was ze wrong. Come as you please, Ã lâinstant. Ah, ze leettle ones, zay will go craze for joy; ze
baron he will geef no more eyes to ze wife who is losing her shape, and all ze officairs, zay will say, âGott!
How I lofe children!â Mais, I will not angree be, but kiss you so, and so, and so. And to all will I say,
âVoilá, deet efer woman haf such a frent for herself and such a second mütter for her children?ââ

LVI
A LIFE OF CAPTIVITY
The removal to Colle was made the same day, and Janice assumed her new charge. It was, as it proved, not a
very onerous one, for the children were well mannered for their years, and, young as they were, in the German
method they were kept pretty steadily at tasks, while an old servant of the general, a German Yager, was only
too delighted at any time to assume care of them. Janice herself slept in the nursery, and at first Mr. and Mrs.
Meredith were given, as suggested, accommodation in the garret. But the baron, not content with the space at
his command, as soon as the weather permitted, had built a large dining-room and salon, separate from the
house, and this supplied so much more space that the parents were given a good room on a lower floor.

The new arrangement not merely brought them comfort, but also pleasure. Mr. and Mrs. Meredith were
treated as guests; and Madame de Riedesel made Janice quite as much her own companion as an attendant on
the children. With her, once her nervousness was conquered, Janice talked French entirely; and more for
amusement than for improvement, she began the study of German, with her friend as instructor; and, having
as well the aid of every Brunswick officer, who only too gladly frequented the house, she was soon able to
both read and speak it, to the delight of the baron, who preferred his native tongue; though his wife,
German-born as she was, could not understand how any one who could talk French would for a moment
willingly use any other tongue. Furthermore, they taught each other the various stitches in embroidery and
crocheting each knew; and the German, who was an excellent housewife, not merely made Janice her assistant
in the household cares, but, after expressing horror that the girl knew nothing of accounts, spent many hours
inducting her into the mysteries by which she knew to a farthing how her money was expended.

Although these were all pastimes rather than labours to Janice, there were lighter hours in which she made a
fourth at whist, learned chess from the general, and played on the harpsichord or sang to him. Once a week
there was a musicale, at which all who could play on any instrument contributed a share, and dances and
dinners were frequently given by the Riedesels and by General Phillips, the major-general in command of the
British part of the Convention prisoners. Horses in plenty were in the stable, and the two ladies, well escorted
by officers, took almost daily rides, the baroness making herself a figure of remark to the natives by riding
astride her horse in a short skirt and long boots.

With the advent of summer, their pleasures became more pastoral. So soon as the weather permitted, the
gentry of the neighbourhood came to call upon their foes, and this led to much dining about. Then, too, there
were out-of-door fêtes and picnics, oftentimes at long distances from the cantonment; so that ere many weeks
the Riedesels and the Merediths had come to know both the people and the region intimately.

A sudden end came to these amusements by an untoward event. Janice and General de Riedesel had made the
flower-garden at Colle their particular charge, working there, despite the heat, for hours each day, till early in
August, when one day the baron was found lying in a pathway unconscious, his face blue, his hands white,
and his eyes staring. He was hurriedly carried into the house, and when the army surgeon arrived, it was found
to be a case of sunstroke. Though he was bled copiously, the sufferer improved but slowly, and before he was
convalescent developed the âriver" or "breakbone fever.â Finally he was ordered over the mountains to the

LVI A LIFE OF CAPTIVITY 271

Warm Springs, to see whether their waters might not benefit him; and, leaving Mr. and Mrs. Meredith in
charge, the baroness and Janice went with him, half as companions and half as nurses.

Upon their arrival there, they found the Springs so crowded that all the log cabins, which, by custom, fell to
the first comers, were already occupied. Declining an offer from one of these to share lodgings, they set to
work in a proper spot to make themselves comfortable; for, having foreseen this very possibility, they had
come amply supplied with tents. Before they had well begun on their encampment, two negroes in white and
red livery appeared, and the spokesman, executing a bow that would have done honour to a lord chamberlain,
handed Madame de Riedesel a letter which read as follows:â

âMrs. Washington preasentâs her most respectful complements to the Barones de Reedaysell,
and her sattisfacshon at being informed of her arival at the Springs. She beggs that if the
barers of this can be of aney a sistance to the Barones in setling, that she will yuse them as
long as they may be of sarvis to her.

âMrs. Washington likewise bespeeks the honer of the Baroneses party to dinner today and
beggs that if it will be aney conveenence to her, that she will sup as well.â

Both offers Madame de Riedesel was only too glad to accept; and at the dinner hour, guided by the darkies,
they made their way to Lady Washingtonâs lodgings, to find a plump, smiling, little lady, who received them
with much dignity, properly qualified with affability. The meal was spread underneath the trees, and they
were quickly seated about the table and chatting genially over it.

Once the newness was taken off the acquaintance, the baroness made an appeal to the hostess for a favour.
âAh, Laty Washington,â she begged, âze surgeons, zay declare my goot husband he cannot recovair ze fevair
in ze so hot climate, and zat ze one goot for him will be zat he to New York restores himself. I haf written ze
prediction to Sir Henry Clinton, applicating zat he secure ze exchange of ze baron immediatement, mais, will
you not also write to ze General Washington and ask him, also, zees zing to accomplish?â

âI would in a moment, gladly, baroness,â replied Mrs. Washington, âbut I assure you that the general would
highly disapprove of my interfering in a public matter. Do not hesitate, however, to write yourself, for I can
assure you he will do everything in his power to spare you anxiety or discomfort.â

âZen you zink he will my prayer grant?â

âI am sure he will, if it is possible, for, aside from his generous treatment of every one, let me whisper to you
that ât is not a quality in his composition to say âNoâ to a pretty woman.â

âOh, no, Frederika,â broke in Janice; âyou need not have the slightest fear of his Excellency. He is everything
that is kind and great and generous!â

âWhat!â exclaimed Mrs. Washington. âYou know the general, then?â

âOh, yes,â cried Janice, rapturously; âand if you but knew, Lady Washington, how we stand indebted to him
at this very moment!â

The hostess smiled in response to the girlâs enthusiasm. ââT is certain he refused you nothing, Miss
Meredith,â she said.

âIndeed, but he did,â answered Janice, merrily. âWouldst believe it, Lady Washington, though perhaps ât is
monstrous bold of me to tell it, ât is he that has had to keep me at a distance, for I have courted him most

LVI A LIFE OF CAPTIVITY 272

outrageously!â

ââT is fortunate,â replied the matron, âthat he is a loyal husband, and that I am not a jealous wife, for ât is a
way all women have with him. What think you a Virginian female, who happened to be passing through
camp, had the forwardness to say to me but tâ other day? âWhen General Washington,â she writ, âthrows off
the hero and takes up the chatty, agreeable companion, he can be downright impudent sometimes,
Martha,âsuch impudence as you and I, and every woman, always like.ââ

âAh,â asserted Madame de Riedesel, âze goot men, zay all lofe us dearly. Eh, Janice?â

âWhat!â demanded the hostess. âIs your name Janice? Surely this is not my nice boy Jackâs Miss Meredith?â

The girl reddened and then paled. âI beg, Lady Washingtonââ she began; but the baroness, who had noted her
change of colour, cut her off.

âYou haf a lofer,â she cried, âand nevair one word to me told? Ach, ingrate! And your lofe I zought it was
mine.

âMiss Meredith is very different, then, from a certain gentleman,â remarked Mrs. Washington, laughingly. âI
first gained his confidence when he lay wounded at headquarters winter before last; but once his secret was
unbosomed, I could not so much as stop to ask how he did but he must begin and talk of nothing but her till he
became so excited and feverish that I had to check or leave him for his own good.â

âIndeed, Lady Washington,â protested the girl, her lip trembling in her endeavour to keep back the tears,
âonce Colonel Brereton may have thought he cared for me, but, I assure you, ât was but a half-hearted regard,
which long since died.â

ââT is thy cruelty killed it, then,â asserted Mrs. Washington, âfor, unless my eyes and ears deceived me, never
was there more eager lover thanââ

ââT is not so; on the contrary, he won my heart and then broke it with his cruelty,â denied the girl, the tears
coming in spite of herself. âI pray you forgive my silly tears, and do not speak more of this matter,â she
ended.

âI cannot believe it of him,â responded Lady Washington. âBut ât was far from my thought to distress you,
and it shall never be spoke of more.â

The subject was instantly dropped; and though Janice saw much of Lady Washington during their three
weeksâ stay at the Springs, and a mutual liking sprang up between the two, never again was it broached save
at the moment that they set out on their return to Colic, when her new friend, along with her farewell kiss,
said, âI, too, shall soon leave the Springs, my dear, and journey ere long to join the general at headquarters for
the winter. Have you any message for him?â

âIndeed, but I have,â eagerly cried Janice. âWilt take him my deepest thanks?â

âAnd no more?â

âIf your ladyship were willing,â said Janice, archly, âI would ask you to take him my love and a kiss.â

âHe shall have them, though I doubt not he would prefer such gifts without a proxy,â promised Mrs.
Washington, smiling. Then she whispered, âAnd can I not carry the same to some one else?â

LVI A LIFE OF CAPTIVITY 273

âNever!â replied the girl, grave on the instant. âOnce I cared for him, but such feeling as I had has long since
died, and nothing can ever restore it.â

Keenly desirous as the Merediths were for the well-being of the Riedesels, it was impossible for them not to
feel a pang of regret when, one morning, the baroness broke the news to them that Washington had yielded to
her prayer, that her husband and General Phillips had at last been exchanged, and that they were to set out
within the week for New York. Yet, even in the departure, their benefactors continued their kindness; for,
having rented Colle for two years, they placed the house at their disposal for the balance of the lease; and
when, after tearful good-byes had been made and they were well started on their northern journey, Janice went
to her room, she found a purse containing twenty guineas in gold as a parting gift from the general, a breastpin
of price from the baroness, and a ring from Gustava, with a note attached to it in the English print which
Janice had taught her, declaring her undying affection and her intention to ask God to change her to a boy that
when she grew up she might return and wed her.

The months that drifted by after this departure were lean ones of incident. Succeeding as they did to the ample
garden, poultry, pigs, and two cows which the baron had donated to them, they were quite at ease as to food.
The junior officers who still remained in charge of the troops saw to it that they did not want for military
servants, thus relieving them of all severe labour; and while they deeply felt the loss of the Riedesels, there
was no lack of company.

The void the departure of the baroness and children made in Janiceâs life was partly filled by an acquaintance
already made which now grew into a friendship. Soon after their settlement at Colle, Mrs. Jefferson, wife of
the Governor, who lived but a few miles away at Monticello, had come to call on them, a visit which she was
unable to repeat, owing to her breaking health, but this very invalidism, as it turned, tended to foster the
intimacy. Her husband being compelled by public events to be at the capital, she was much alone, and often
sent over an invitation to Janice to come and spend a few days with her. As a liking for the girl ripened, it
induced an attempt to serve them.

âI have spoke to Thomas of your hard lot,â she told Janice, âand repeated to him enough of the tale you told
me to convince him that your father was not the active Tory he is reputed to be, and have at last persuaded
him to write to Governor Livingston bespeaking a permission for you to return to your own home, if your
father will but give his parole to take no part in public affairs.â

âOh, Mrs. Jefferson, how can we ever thank you?â

âI do not deserve it, believe me, Janice, for I long postponed what I knew I ought to do, through regret at the
thought of losing your visits.â

âThat but deepens our thanks. If youââ

âIâll not listen to them now,â replied the friend, âfor who can say that they will come to aught? âT will be
time enough when it has really accomplished something.â

Distant as they were from the active operations of the war, the inmates of Colle were kept pretty well
informed of its progress, for it was a constant theme of conversation, and the movements were closely
followed on the military maps of the officers who frequented the house. From them Janice heard how Clinton,
despairing of conquering the Northern colonies by force of arms, had resorted to bribery, but only to win the
services of an officer he did not wish, and not the desired post of West Point; and with tears in her eyes she
listened to the news that André, setting ambition above honour, had paid for the lapse with his life. Then, as
the tide of war shifted, it was explained to her why the British general, keeping tight hold on New York as a
base for operations, transferred a material part of his forces to the South, where, in succession, he captured

LVI A LIFE OF CAPTIVITY 274

Savannah and Charleston, and almost without resistance overran the States of Georgia and the two Carolinas.

âYou see, Miss Meredith,â she was told, âthe yeomanry of the Northern States are so well armed that we have
found it impossible to hold the country against their militia; but in the Southern States, aside from the
difference between the energetic Northerners and the more indolent Sonthrons, the long distances between the
plantations, and the fact that the gentry donât dare to trust their slaves with weapons, make them practically
defenceless. The plan now seems to be, therefore, to wear the Northern colonies out by our fleet and by
occasional descents upon the towns of the coast, while we meantime conquer the Southern States. Had it been
adopted from the first, the strength would have been sapped out of the rebellion and it would have been ended
two years ago; but the new strategy cannot fail, even at this late date, to bring them to their knees in time.â

An evidence of the truth of this surmise, and an abrupt ending to the peaceful life at Saratoga, came to the
little settlement in the first week of the year 1781, when a post rider spurred into Charlottesville with a
despatch to the County Lieutenant of Albemarle announcing that a British fleet had entered the Capes of the
Chesapeake and seized the town of Portsmouth, and summoning the militia to embody, for Virginia was
threatened with the fate which had already befallen her sister States to the southward.

LVII
A PAPER MONEY AND MILITIA WAR
The alarm of the British invasion was sufficient to throw the whole of Virginia into a panic, but especially the
neighbourhood about Charlottesville, for it was inferred that one purpose of their coming was to attempt to
liberate the Convention prisoners. The cantonment, therefore, was hastily broken up, and all the troops were
marched over the mountains to Winchester, or northward into Pennsylvania, scarcely time for them to pack
their few possessions being accorded to them. From this deportation the Merediths were excepted, for as
political prisoners, no mention of them was made in the orders issued by Washington and the Virginia
Council; and so Colonel Bland left them unmolested, the sole residents of the once overcrowded village of
huts. The removal of the prisoners proved a needless precaution, for, after remaining but a few days, the
British fleet retired, having effected little save to frighten badly the people, but the apprehension subsided as
quickly as it had come.

The hope of quiet was a false one, for in a few months a second expedition, under the command of Arnold,
sailed up the James River and captured and burned Richmond. To face this new enemy, to which the militia of
the State were deemed inadequate, Washington detached a brigade under the command of Lafayette from the
Northern army, supposing the movement, like the previous one, a mere predatory expedition, which could be
held in check by this number of troops; and upon news that General Phillips, with reinforcements, had joined
Arnold, he further despatched a second brigade under Wayne.

Meantime, the force under Cornwallis, after overrunning North Carolina, now suddenly swung northward and
effected a juncture with the British force in Virginia, raising it to such strength that Lafayette dared not risk a
battle, and was left no option, as the British advanced inland, but to fall back rapidly toward the mountains.

These latter events succeeded one another with such rapidity that the people of Charlottesville first heard of
some of them by the arrival of Governor Jefferson and the members of the Assembly, to which place they had
voted an adjournment just previous to their being forced to abandon the capital. Sessions had scarcely been
begun, however, when word was brought that the enemy was within a few miles of the town, and once again
they took to their heels and fled over the mountains into the Shenandoah valley, escaping none too soon, as it
proved, for Tarletonâs cavalry rode into the streets of Charlottesville so close upon what was left of the
government of Virginia that some of the members were captured.

LVII A PAPER MONEY AND MILITIA WAR 275

The Merediths, two miles away at Saratoga, first heard the news of these latter events from a captain of
militia, who, accompanied by six sullen-looking companions, rode up early on the morning of the raid and
sharply ordered the three to mount the led horses he brought with him.

âIâm ridinâ,â he explained, âto collect the horses and alarm the hundreds towards Boswellâs, and the county
lieutenant ordered me to take you away from here. No, I can ât wait to have you pack.â

ââT is surely not necessary that we should be treated so,â pleaded Mr. Meredith. âMy wife has not the strength
to bear alongââ

âCan ât help that. Like as not the British horse haânât had word that the Convention troops have been sent
away, and will ride this far, and we reckon we canât have you givinâ them no information,â answered the
man. âI don ât want no talk. Into the saddle with you.â

Protests and prayers were absolutely unavailing, and the whole party hurriedly set off at the best pace the
horses were able to go. As they journeyed, a halt was made at each cabin and each plantation, and every white
man found was summarily ordered by the captain to get his gun and join the party; while at each place all the
horses were impressed, not merely to carry those unprovided with one, but to prevent their falling into the
hands of the foe. Nor did the captain pay more heed to the expostulations and grumblings of the men, at being
called away from their crops at the busiest farming season, nor of the women, at being deprived of their
protectors in times of such danger, than he had to the weaker ones of the Merediths.

âThe invasion law just passed by theâsembly calls out every man as can fight, and declares every one as
wonât a traitor, so you can take your choice of shootinâ at the British or beinâ shot by us,â was the captainâs
unvarying formula, be the complaints what they might.

As if to make the ill feeling the greater, too, he told the whole party at one point of the route, âIf you-alls had
been patriots and âlisted four weeks ago, you âd every one of youâve got a bounty of five hundred dollars of
the money my saddle-bags is filled with; but you had nât spunk, so it serves you-ails good and handsome that
now youâve got to fight for ânary a shillinâ.â

âWe would nât have been a tinkerâs damn the richer if we had,â snarled one of the unwilling conscripts. âIâd
rather have a pound of hay than the same weight in cursed state money, for you can feed the hay to a hoss, but
Iâm consarned if tâ other âs good for anythinâ.â

âSay, cap,â asked a second, âhas you ralely got them saddle-bags oâ yourn filled with the stuff?â

âAy. The presses were at Charlottesville busy strikinâ it, and I was told to help save what was already printed
from capture.â

âLord! the British would nât have seized that, with all the cord wood there is in Charlottesville, to say nothinâ
of grind-stones and ploughs and chimbleys built of brick and other things of value,â asserted the original
speaker.

âMight come handy along of all the terbacker theyâve took down to Petersburg. Do to light a pipe with, I
reckon,â suggested another.

âSay, cap,â again spoke up the second speaker, âthe raison as why I asked that there question is that weâll be
gettinâ to Hunkerâs ordinary at the four corners right smart off now, and I was calculatinâ if you had enough
of the rags with you to set us up a drink all round? âT wonât cost more ân ten thousand dollars if Hunkers
ainât in an avaricious mood.â

LVII A PAPER MONEY AND MILITIA WAR 276

The officer had been absolutely inattentive to the complaints and growls, but the quizzing made him lose his
temper. âYou-alls shut your jaws, the lot of you, or when we reach the roundyvous this eveninâ Iâll report you
to the kurnel and youâll get the guard-house or worse,â he threatened. âIâm danged if I donât believe every
one of you-alls is a Tory at heart.â

âA little more oâ thisâll make me one,â muttered a man who hitherto had been silent, but he spoke so low as
to be heard by his fellow unfortunates only, and not by the captain.

âDon ât talk to me of the tyranny of Britain after this!â responded his immediate neighbour.

The militia officer would have done better to let the dissatisfaction find its vent in jokes; for, deprived of this
outlet, the malcontents took to whispering among themselves in a manner that boded ill for something or
somebody. But he was too busy securing each new recruit and each horse to give attention to the signs that
might have warned him.

A rude awakening came to the captain when the motley cavalcade drew up at the ordinary at the cross-roads,
for as he was in the act of dismounting, two of the party, who had been more expeditious in their movements,
caught him by the leg as he swung it clear of the saddle, and brought him violently to the ground. He was held
in that position while his hands and feet were tied with his own bridle, as many of the men as could get about
him assisting in the operation, while the remainder, the Merediths excepted, kept up a chorus of approving
remarks, or of gibing and mocking comments on the officerâs half-smothered menaces and oaths. Once
secured, he was dragged to the guide-post, and with his stirrup straps was fastened to it securely. This done,
his saddle-bags were pulled off his horse and the paper money was emptied out and heaped about his feet.
Meantime, and as an evidence of how carefully every detail of their revenge had been planned, one of the
ring-leaders had disappeared into the tavern, and now returned with a lighted brand.

âYou can threat and cuss all you hanker,â he chuckled. âIf we ainât to have no bounty, weâll give you some of
ourn,â he added malignantly, as he stooped and set fire to the pile of bills.

âOh, donât!â screamed Janice. âDadda, stop them!

âFor shame!â echoed Mr. Meredith, swinging out of his saddle, in which hitherto he had remained a passive
spectator.

âHands off,â warned the torch-bearer, âif you donât want to be tied alongside of him.â

There was nothing to do, and the ladies were only able to turn their backs on the sight; but they could not thus
escape the howls of terror and pain that the miserable victim uttered, though the squire sought to save them
from this by taking hold of the two bridles and leading their horses away.

This movement served to attract their attention to something hitherto not observed, and which the absorption
of the militia in their revenge still prevented them from noting. On the road by which they had come arose a
thick cloud of dust, out of which horsemen seemed to be riding, but, though they came on at a hand gallop, the
screen, swept onward by the breeze, kept pace with the riders, and even at times hid now one, now all, from
view, causing the squire, who first caught sight of the phenomenon, to rub his eyes, that he might have
assurance that it was not a phantasm of his brain. Of this another sense furnished quick evidence, for even
above the jeers of the torturers and the shrieks of the tortured sounded the clatter of hoofs. At the first
warning, cries of alarm escaped from many mouths, and with the fright of guilt, there was a wild stampede for
the horses; before the half of them were in the saddle, the thunder of a column of horse was close upon them,
and as, mounted and unmounted, they scattered, there came a rush of red-coated troopers in amongst them.
Loud above the tumult and uproar came the sharp order,â

LVII A PAPER MONEY AND MILITIA WAR 277

âCapture what men you can, but donât let a horse escape!â

Mr. Meredith, the moment the militia had deserted the fire, rushed forward, and with three kicks scattered the
flaming currency from about the manâs legs,âa proceeding which attracted the attention of the officer who
gave the order.

âWhat is the meaning of this?â he demanded, but all the reply he received was a startled exclamation which
burst from the squire.

âWhat!â he ejaculated. âWhy, this passes very belief! Pox me, if ât is not Phil Hennion.â

LVIII
FROM BLUE RIDGE TO TIDE WATER
For a few moments the mingled exclamations, greetings, and questions were too broken and mixed to tell any
of them much, but the first surprise over, the Merediths explained their presence.

âI knew from the baroness that you were at Colle, and bitter was the disappointment when I found you gone
this morning. But my grief then makes me but the happier now.â

âBut how came ye here, lad?â questioned the squire.

âWe were sent on a raid to Charlottesville, with orders to rejoin the main army at Point of Fork, and I was
detached by Colonel Tarleton this morning to take this route, hoping to get more information concerning
Lafayetteâs whereabouts and movements.â

âI heard this fellow,â said Mr. Meredith, indicating the still captive and moaning man, âwho is a captain of
militia, tell the men he was draughting that they were to march, as soon as embodied, to join the rebel army at
Raccoon Ford.â

âHah! the junction with Wayneâs force emboldens him to show us something more than his back at last. âT is
all I wish to learn, and we can now take the shortest road to rejoin Lord Cornwallis. Strap me! but ât was a
heaven-sent chance that we should come just in the nick oâ time to rescue you. There shall be no more
captivity, that I can promise you.â He turned to the now reassembled squadron, and ordered, âParole your
prisoners, Captain Cameron, and let them go. You, Lieutenant Beatty, bring up the best extra mount you have,
and arrange as comfortable a place as possible for the ladies in one of the baggage-waggons.â

âA suggestion, major,â spoke up another officer. âSergeant McDonald reports that there is a chaise in the
tavern barn, andââ

âPut horse to it, and have it out before you set fire to the buildings,â interrupted Hennion.

âWhat!â ejaculated Mr. Meredith. âArt thou a major, Phil?â

âAy, squire. Iâve fought my way up two grades since last we met.â

There was a greater change in the officer than of rank, for his once long and ungainly frame had broadened
and filled out into that of a well-formed, powerful man. His face, too, had lost its lankness, to its great
improvement, for the features were strong, and, with the deep tan which the Southern campaigns had given it,
had become, from being one of positive homeliness, one of decided distinction. But the most marked

LVIII FROM BLUE RIDGE TO TIDE WATER 278

alteration was in his speech and bearing, for all trace of the awkward had disappeared from both; he spoke
with facility and authority, and he sat his horse with soldierly erectness and ease.

The ladies were soon bestowed in the chaise, the bugle sounded, and the flying column resumed its
movement. Little they saw of the commander all day, for he rode now with the foremost troop, and now with
the rear one, keenly alert to all that was taking place, asking questions at each farmhouse as to roads, bridges,
rivers, distances, the people, and everything which could be of value. Only when the heat of the day came, and
they halted for a few hoursâ rest at a plantation, did he come to them, and then only for a brief word as to their
accommodation. He offered Mrs. Meredith and Janice the best the house afforded, but, with keen recollections
of their own sufferings, they refused to dispossess the women occupants from their home, and would accept in
food and lodgings only what they had to spare. Indeed, though as far as possible it had been kept from their
sight, the march had brought a realising sense to them, almost for the first time, of the full horror of the war,
and made them appreciate that their own experience, however bad they had deemed it, was but that of
hundreds. The day had been one long scene of rapine and destruction. At each plantation they had seen all
serviceable horses seized, and the rest of the stock, young or old, slaughtered, all provisions of use to the army
made prize of, and the remainder, with the buildings that held it, put to the torch, and the young crops of
wheat, corn, and tobacco, so far as time allowed, destroyed. Under cover of all this, too, there was looting by
the dragoons, which the officers could not prevent, try their best.

There was a still worse terror, of which, fortunately, the Merediths saw nothing. Large numbers of the negroes
took advantage of the incursion, and indeed were encouraged by the cavalry, to escape from slavery by
following in the rear of the column; and as the white men were either with the Virginia militia, or were in
hiding away from the houses, the women were powerless to prevent the blacks from plundering, or from any
other excess it pleased them to commit. The Old Dominion, the last State of the thirteen to be swept over by
the foe, was harried as the Jerseys had been, but by troops made less merciful by many a fierce conflict, and
by its own servitors, debased by slavery to but one degree above the brute. Only with death did the people
forget the enormities of those few months, when Cornwallisâs army cut a double swath from tide water almost
to the mountains, and Tarletonâs and Simcoeâs cavalry rode whither they pleased; and the hatred of the
British and the fear of their own slaves outlasted even the passing away of the generation which had suffered.

It was on the afternoon of the following day that the detachment effected a juncture with the main army, and
so soon as Major Hennion had reported, Lord Cornwallis, who was quartered at Elk Hill, an estate of
Jeffersonâs, sent word that he wished to see Mr. Meredith at once, and extended an invitation to them all to
share the house. He questioned the squire for nearly an hour as to the whereabouts of the Convention
prisoners, the condition of the State, and the feeling of the people.

âAll you tell me tallies with such information as I have procured elsewhere,â he ended; âand had I but a free
hand I make certain I could destroy Lafayette and completely subjugate the State in one campaign.â

âSurely, my Lord, you could not better serve the king. Virginia has been the great hot-bed of sedition, and if
she were once smothered, the fire would quickly die out.â

âAlmost the very words I writ to Sir Henry, but he declares it out of the question to leave me the troops with
which to effect it. As you no doubt are aware, a French force has been landed at Rhode Island, and is even
now on its march to join Mr. Washington; and, by a fortunate interception of some of his despatches to
Congress, we have full information that the united force intend an attack on New York. So I am ordered to fall
down to a good defensive post on the Chesapeake and to send a material part of my army to his aid.â

When finally the interview was ended, and Mr. Meredith asked one of the aides to take him to his room, it was
explained that Mrs. Meredith and her daughter had been put in one and that he was to have a share of another.

LVIII FROM BLUE RIDGE TO TIDE WATER 279

âYou âd have had the floor or a tent, sir,â his guide told him, as he threw open the door, âbut for Lord Clowes
saying heâd take you in."

Surely enough, it was the commissary who warmly grasped the squireâs hand as he entered, and who cried,
âWelcome to ye, friend Meredith! I heard of your strange arrival from nowhere, and glad I was to be assured
ye were still in the flesh and once more among friends.â

âYeâve clear surprised my breath out of my windpipe,â returned the squire. âWho âd have thought to find ye
here?â

âAnd where else should I be, but where there âs an army to be fed, and crops to feed them? Iâ faith, never was
there a richer harvest field for one who knows how to garner it. Why, man, aside from the captures of tobacco,
now worth a great price, and other gains, over six thousand pounds Iâve made in the last two years, by
shipping niggers, who think they are escaping to freedom, to our West India islands, and selling them to the
planters there. This war is a perfect gold mine.

âLittle of that it âs been to me,â lamented his listener.

âYe can make it such, anâ it please ye. She perceived me not, but I saw your daughter as ye rode up, and
though I thought myself well cured of the infatuation, poof! one gloat was enough to set my blood afire, as if I
were but a boy of eighteen again. Lord Clowes, with a cool ninety thousand, is ready to make her fortune and
yours.â

âNay, Clowes, ye know Iâve passed my word to Hennion, andââ

âWhoâll not outlive the war, ye may make sure. The fellow âs made himself known through the army by the
way he puts himself forward in every engagement. Some one of these devilish straight-shooting riflemen will
release that promise for ye."

âI trust not; but if it so falls, there âd still be a bar to your wish. The girl dislikes ye veryââ

âDost not know that is no bad beginning? Nay, man, see if I bring her not round, once I have a clear field.
Iâve thought it out even now while Iâve waited for ye. Weâll sail for New York on one of the ships that
carries Lord Cornwallisâs reinforcements to Clinton, and as ât will be some years still ere the country is
entirely subdued, out of the question ât will be that ye go to Greenwood. I will resign my post, being now rich
enough, and weâll all go to London, where Iâll take a big house, and ye shall be my guests. Once let the girl
taste of high life, with its frocks and jewels and carriages, and all that tempts the sex, and sheâll quickly see
their provider in a new light.â

ââT is little ye know of my lass, Clowes.â

âTush! I know women to the very bottom; and is she more than a woman?â

Their conference was ended by the call to supper, and in the hallway the baron attempted as hearty a greeting
with the ladies as he had with the squire. Though taken by surprise, a distant curtsey was all he gained from
them, and do his best, he could get little of their conversation during the meal.

On rising, Philemon, who had been a guest at table, drew the squire to one side. âThe legion is ordered on a
foray to destroy the military stores at Albemarle Court-house, and in this hot weather we try to do our riding
at night, to spare our cattle, so we shall start away about eleven oâclock. His Lordship tells me that the army
will begin to fall down to the coast in a day or two, so it may be a some time before I see you again. Have you

LVIII FROM BLUE RIDGE TO TIDE WATER 280

money?â

âA bare trifle, but Iâll not further rob ye, lad, till I get to the end of my purse.

âDo not fear to take from me, sir. A majorâs pay is very different from a cornetâs. âT will make me feel
easier, and, in fact, ât will be safer with you than with me,â Phil said, as he forced a rouleau of coin into the
squireâs palm. Then, not waiting for Mr. Meredithâs protests or thanks, he crossed to where Janice was
talking with three of the staff and broke in upon their conversation: âJanice, a soldier goes or stays not as he
pleases, but as the bugle orders, and there is more work cut out for us, but this evening I am free. Wilt come
and stroll along the river-bank for an hour?â

âDash your impudence, Hennion!â protested one of the group. âDo you think you fellows of the cavalry can
plunder everything? Pay no heed to him, Miss Meredith, I beg of you.â

"Ay," echoed another, ât is the artillery the major should belong to, for heâd do to repair the brass cannon.â

The girl stood irresolute for a breath, then, though she coloured, she said steadily, âCertainly, if you wish it,
Philemon.â

While they were passing the rows of camp-fires and tents, the major was silent, but once these were behind
them he said:â

ââT would be idle, Janice, to make any pretence of why I wished to see you apart. You must know it as well
as I.â

âI suppose I do, Philemon,â assented the girl, quietly.

âA long time weâve been parted, but not once has my love for you lessened, andâand in Philadelphia you held
out a little hope that Iâve lived on ever since. You said that the squire held to his promise, and thatâdid youâdo
you still think as youââ

âHave you spoken to dadda?â

âNo. Forâfor I was afraid heâd force you against your will. Once I was eager to take you even so, but I hope
you wonât judge me for that. I was an unthinking boy then.â

âWe all make mistakes, Philemon, and would that I could outlive mine as well as you have yours,â Janice
answered gently.

âThenâthenâyou will?â

âIf dadda stillâ Before I answerâIâsomething must be told that I wishâoh, how I wish, for your sake and for
mine!âhad never been. I gaveâI tried to be truthful to you, Philemon, but, unknown to myself, some love I
gave to âto one I need not name, and though Iâthough he quickly killed it, ât is but fair that you should know
that the little heartâfor IâI fear me I am cold by natureâI had to give was wasted on another. But if, after this
confession, you still would have me for a wife, and dadda and mommy wish it, I will wed you, and try my
best to be dutiful and loving.â

ââT is all I ask,â eagerly exclaimed Philemon, as he caught her hand, and drew her toward him. âAh, Janice, if
you but knew how I loveââ

LVIII FROM BLUE RIDGE TO TIDE WATER 281

âHo! there ye are,â came the voice of the commissary not five paces away. âI saw ye go toward the river, and
followed.â

âMy Lord, Miss Meredith and I are engaged in a private conversation, and cannot but take your intrusion
amiss."

âFudge, man, is not the night hot enough but ye must blaze up so? Nor is the river-bank your monopoly.â

âKeep it all, then, and a good riddance to the society you enjoy it with. Come, Janice, weâll back to the
house.â

At the doorway Philemon held out his hand. âWe ride away while you will be sleeping, but ât is a joyous heart
you let me carry.â

âI am glad if Iâif you are happy,â responded the girl, as she let him press her fingers. Then, regardless of the
sentry, she laid her free hand on Philâs arm impulsively and imploringly, as she added, âOh, Philemon,
pleaseâwhatever else you are, please donât be hard and cruel to me.â

âIâll try my best not to be, though ât is difficult for a soldier to be otherwise; but, come what may, Iâll never
pain or deny you knowingly, Janice.â

ââT is all I beg. But be kind and generous, and Iâll love you in time.â

Rub-a-dub went the drums, sounding tattoo, and the beating brought several officers scurrying out of the
house. Philemon kissed the girlâs hand, and hurried away to his squadron.

Two days the army remained encamped at the Fork, then by easy marches it followed the river down to
Richmond, where a rest was taken. Once again getting in motion, it fell back on Williamsburg and halted, for
it was now the height of summer, and the heat so intense that the troops were easily exhausted. Finally, the
British retired across the James River, and took up a position at Portsmouth.

In the month thus spent, not once was Major Hennion able to get a word with Janice, for Lafayette followed
closely upon the heels of the invaders until they were safe over the James, and there was constant skirmishing
between the van and rear and two sharp encounters, which kept Tarletonâs and Simcoeâs cavalry, when they
had rejoined, fully occupied in covering the retreat, while the Merediths and other loyalists who had joined the
army travelled with the baggage in the advance.

The occupation of Portsmouth was brief, for upon the engineers reporting that the site was not one which
could be fortified, the British general put his troops on board of such shipping as he could gather and
transferred them bodily to Yorktown. Here he set the army, and the three thousand negroes who had followed
them, leisurely to laying out lines of earthworks, that he might hold the post with the reduced number which
would be left him after he detached the reinforcements needed at New York, and despatched a sloop-of-war to
Clinton, with word that he but awaited the arrival of transports to send him whatever regiments he should
direct.

If Hennion, by his constant service at the front, was helpless to assist his friends, Clowes, who was always
with the baggage train, was unending in his favours. He secured them a stock of clothing, and assigned to
them two admirable servants from the horde of runaway slaves; he promptly procured for them a more
comfortable travelling carriage, and he made their lodgings a matter of daily concern, so that they always
fared with the best, while his gifts of wine and other delicacies were almost embarrassingly frequent. At
Yorktown, too, where the village of about sixty houses supplied but the poorest and scantiest accommodations

LVIII FROM BLUE RIDGE TO TIDE WATER 282

for both man and beast, he managed to have the custom-house assigned for his own use, and then placed all
the rooms the Merediths needed at their disposal. If Janiceâs preferences had been spoken and regarded,
everything he did in their behalf would have been declined; but her motherâs real need of the comforts of life,
and her fatherâs love of them, were arguments too strong for her own wishes, and by placing them under
constant obligation to the baron made it impossible for her not to treat him with outward courtesy whenever
he sought their company, which was with every opportunity. Yet it was in vain that the commissary plied her
with his old-time arts of manner and tongue. Even the slow mind of the squire took note that he gained no
ground with his daughter.

ââT is a tougher task yeâve undertaken even than ye counted upon,â he said, one evening over the wine, as
Janice left the table at the earliest possible instant.

âTut! give me time. Iâll bring her around yet.â

âI warned ye the maid had ye deep in her bad books.â

âWhat âs a month? If a woman yields in that time, a man may save himself the parsonâs fee, and it please
him.â

âStill, though she is a good lass in most things, I must own to ye that she bath a strange vein of obstinacy in
her, which she comes by from her mother.â

âThen Iâll use that same obstinacy to win her. Dost not know that every quality in a female is but a means by
which to ensnare her? Let me once know a womanâs virtues and frailties, and Iâll make each one of them
serve my suit.â

ââT is more than a month yeâve been striving to win her regard.â

âAy; but for some reason, in Philadelphia I could neâer keep my head when with her, and as often went back
as forward, curse it! âBetter slip with foot than with tongue,â runs the old saying, and I did both with her. Iâve
learned my lesson now, and once give me a clear field and ye shall see how ât will be.â

The squire shook his head. âSheâs promised to Major Hennion, and after much folly and womanishness at last
sheâs found her mind, and tells me she will cheerfully wed him.â

âAnd how will the lot of ye live, man?â asked Clowes, crossly. âHast not had word that Jersey has enacted a
general act of forfeiture and escheatage âgainst all Royalists?â

âThat Iâd not,â answered the squire, pulling a long face. âI suppose that has taken Greenwood from us?â

âAy, for I saw the very advertisement of the sale, and have not told ye before merely to spare you distress.
And ât will strip Hennion of his acres as well, I take it. Wilt deliberately marry her to a penniless man?â

âBoxely never was his, and I doubt not his scamp of a father will find some way to save it to him. Iâll not
tarry longer, for ât is ill news ye have just broke to me, and I must carry it to Matilda. It gives us but a black
future to which to look forward.â

Mr. Meredith gone from the room, the commissary took from his pocket a copy of Gainesâ âNew York
Gazette and Weekly Mercury,â which had come to him but that morning, and re-read an account it contained,
taken from the âNew Jersey Gazette,â of the sale of Greenwood to Esquire Hennion. ââT is my devilâs ill luck
that he, of all men, should buy it,â he muttered. âHowever, if I can but get them to New York, away from this

LVIII FROM BLUE RIDGE TO TIDE WATER 283

dashing dragoon, and then persuade them to cross the Atlantic, ât will matter not who owns it.â He rose,
stretched himself, and as he did so, he repeated the words:â

âI and chance, against any two;

Time and I against chance and you.â

LIX
TRAITORS IN THE REAR
On a broiling August day in the year 1781, an officer rode along the Raritan between Middle-Brook and
Brunswick. As he approached the entrance of Greenwood, he slowed his horse, and after a momentâs apparent
hesitation, finally turned him through the gateway. Once at the porch he drew rein and looked for a time at the
paintless clap-boards, broken window-panes, and tangle of vines and weeds, all of which told so plainly the
story of neglect and desertion. Starting his steed, he passed around to the kitchen door, and rapped thrice with
the butt of a pistol without gaining any reply. Wheeling about, he was returning to the road when an idea
seemed to come to him, for, altering direction, he pulled on his bridle, and turned his horse into the garden,
now one dense overgrowth. Guiding him along one of the scarcely discernible paths, he checked him at a
garden seat, and leaning in his saddle plucked half a dozen sprays of honeysuckle from the vine which
surmounted it. He touched them to his lips, and gave his horse the spur. He held the sprays in his hand as he
rode, occasionally raising them to his face until he was on the edge of Brunswick village, then he slipped them
into his sword sash.

Giving his horse into the hands of the publican at the tavern, he crossed the green to the parsonage and
knocked. âIs Parson McClave within?â he inquired of the hired girl.

âCome in, come in, Colonel Brereton,â called a voice from the sitting-room; âand all the more welcome are
you that I did not know you were in these parts.â

âMy regiment was ordered across the river to Chatham last week, to build ovens for the coming attack on
New York, and I took a few hours off to look up old friends,â Brereton answered in a loud voice. âWhere can
we safely talk?â he whispered.

âIâll leave my sermon even as it is,â said the presbyter, âand it being hot here, let us into the meeting-house
yard, where weâll get what breeze comes up the river. Eager I am to learn of what the army is about.â

Once they were seated among the gravestones, the colonel said âI need not tell you that five times in the last
two months the continental post-riders have been waylaid âtwixt Brunswick and Princeton by scoundrels in
the pay of the British. Only once, fortunately, was there information of the slightest importance, but ât is
something that must be stopped; and General Washington, knowing of my familiarity with this
neighbourhood, directed me to discover and bring the wretches to punishment. Because I can trust you, I come
to ask if you have any information or even inkling that can be of service?â

âSurely, man, you do not suspect any one in my parish?â replied the clergyman.

Brereton smiled slightly. âThere is little doubt that the secret Tories of Monmouth County are concerned; but
there is some confederate in Brunswick, who, whether he takes an active share, supplies them with
information concerning the routes, days, and hours of the posts. I see, however, you have no light to shed on
the matter.â

LIX TRAITORS IN THE REAR 284

ââT is all news to me,â answered the minister, shaking his head. âI knew that there was some illicit trading
with New York, but that we had real traitors amongst us I never dreamed.â

âTrap them I will, before many weeks,â asserted the officer. âIf in no other way, Iâllââ

The sentence was interrupted by the clang of the church bell above them.

âBless me!â cried McClave, springing to his feet. âYour call has made me forget the auction, which, as justice
of the peace, I must attend.â

âWhat auction?â

âFor the sale of Greenwood under the statute.â

The officer frowned. âI feared it when I read of the passing of a general act of forfeiture and escheatage,â he
muttered, âthough I still hoped ât would not extend to them.â

[Illustration: âHave I won?â]

Together the two men crossed the green to the town hall, where now a crowd, consisting of almost every
inhabitant of the village and of the outlying farms, was assembled. The officer, a scowl on his face, paused in
the doorway and glanced about, then threaded his way to where two negresses stood weeping, and began
talking to them. Meanwhile, the clergyman, pushing on through the throng, joined Esquire Hennion and
Bagby, who for some reason were suspiciously eying each other on the platform.

âI intend to bid on the property, McClave,â announced the Honourable Joseph, âso ât is best that the squire
takes charge of the sale.â

âThet âere is jes what Iâm a-calkerlatinâ ter do, likewise,â responded Hennion, with an ugly glance at Joe, âso
I guess yerâll hev ter assoom the runninâ of the perseedins yerself, paason.â

There was a momentâs consultation, and then Justice McClave stepped forward and read in succession the
text of an act of the New Jersey Assembly, a proclamation of the Governor, and an advertisement from the
âNew Jersey Gazetteâ by which documents, and by innumerable whereases and therefores, it was set forth that
a state of war existed with Great Britain; that sundry inhabitants of the State, forgetful of their just duty and
allegiance, had aided and abetted the common enemy; that by these acts they placed themselves outside of the
laws of the commonwealth, their property became forfeited, and was ordered sold for the benefit of the State;
that the property of one Lambert Meredith, who had been attainted, both by proclamation and by trial, of high
treason, was therefore within the act; and, finally, that there would be sold to the highest bidder, at the
court-house of the town of Brunswick, on the sixteenth day of August next ensuing, the said property of the
said Lambert Meredith; namely, âTwo likely negro women, who can cook and spin,â and thirty thousand
acres of choice arable farm and wood lands under cultivation lease, with one house, one stable, and corn-cribs
and other outbuildings thereto appertaining.

It took not five minutes to sell the sobbing slaves, the tavern-keeper buying Sukey for the sum of forty-one
pounds, and the clergyman announcing himself at the end of the bidding as the purchaser of Peg for
thirty-nine pounds, six.

Then amidst a silence which told of the interest of the crowd, the auctioneer read out a description of the
bounds and acreage of Greenwood, and asked for bids.

LIX TRAITORS IN THE REAR 285

âNine thousand pounds,â instantly offered Bagby.

âFive hunded more,â rejoined Hennion.

âTen thousand,â snapped Joe.

âFive hunded more,â snarled his rival bidder.

âEleven thousand,â came Joeâs counter bid.

âThirteen thousand.â

âAnd five hundred.â

âFifteen thousand.â

Bagby hesitated, scowling, then said, âSixteen thousand.â

âSeventeen.â

âSeventeen, five.â

âYer might ez waal quit, Joe,â interjected Squire Hennion. âI hez more ânâ yer hev, anâ I intends ter buy it.
Nineteen my bid, paâson."

âTwenty,â burst out Joe, malignantly.

âTwenty-one.â

âTwenty-five.â

Hennionâs face in turn grew red with anger, and he half rose, his fist clinched, but recollecting himself he
resumed his seat.

âGoing at twenty-five,â announced McClave. âWill any one give more?â

A breathless pause came, while Bagby's countenance assumed a look of sudden anxiety. âI did nât say
twenty-five,â he quickly denied; âI said twenty-two.â

A wave of contradiction swept through the hall.

Nothing daunted, the honourable Joseph repeated his assertion.

âHe, he, he!â chuckled Hennion, âthet comes of biddinâ more money than yers hev.â

âWeâll call it twenty-two thousand,â said McClave, âsince Mr. Bagby persists. Will you give any more?â

âOne hunded more,â said Hennion; and nobody offering above him, it was knocked down at that price.

As the sale was declared completed, Bagby rose. âAt least, I made you pay double for it,â he growled
spitefully to his competitor.

LIX TRAITORS IN THE REAR 286

âYer did, consarn yer,â was Hennionâs reply; but then a smile succeeded the angry look on the shrewd face. âI
did nât pay more ân a third of what ât is wuth, then.â

ââT will be a dear buy, that I warn you,â retorted Joseph, angrily. âIâll pay you off yet for bidding me out of
it.â

âYer be keerful what yer do, or Iâll do some payinâ off myself,â warned Hennion.

Brereton, who had stayed through the sale, with a contemptous shrug of the shoulders, walked over to the
ordinary. Here he ate a silent supper, and then mounting his horse set off on his evening ride back to his
regiment.

Half-way between Brunswick and Greenwood, while his thoughts were dwelling on the dayâs doings, and on
what effect it would have on those far away in the mountains of Virginia, he was brought back to the present
by hearing his name called in a low voice from behind a wall.

âWho âs that?â he demanded, halting his horse.

âAre you alone?â

âYes,â replied the officer, as he drew out a pistol from the holster.

âNo occasion for that, colonel,â said Joe Bagby's unmistakable accents, as the man climbed over the stones
and came forward. âItâs me,â he announced. âJust walk your horse slow, so I can keep beside you, for Iâve
something to tell you, and I donât want to stand still here in the road.â

âWell, what is it?â questioned Brereton, as he started his horse walking.

âI rather guess you came to town on business, did nât you?â

âPerhaps.â

âMight be something to do with the sale of Greenwood.â

âPossibly.â

âBut more likely ât was something to do with public matters?â

âWell?â

âWhat would you give to catch them as was concerned in the killing of the post-riders?â

Not a motion or sound did Jack give to betray himself. âThat lies outside of my work,â he said. ââT is the
business of the secret service.â

âDo you mean that, if I can put you in the way of laying hands on the whole gang, you wonât do it?â

âIf you choose to tell me what you know, Iâll report it, for what it âs worth, to headquarters, and General
Washington will take such actions as he judges fit.â

âThere wonât be time for that,â asserted Joe. âItâs to-morrow the thing âs to be played.â

LIX TRAITORS IN THE REAR 287

âWhat thing?â

âThe robbing of the mail.â

âHow know you that?â

âWell, being in politics, colonel, I make it my business to know most things that is happening in the county.
Now, Iâve been ferreting for some time to get at this post-riding business, and at last Iâve found out how it âs
done. And they âre going to do it again to-morrow night just this side of Rocky Hill.â

For a moment Brereton was silent. âHow is it done?â he asked.

âItâs this way. One of Moodyâs gang is working with Squire Hennion as hired man; and when Hennion
knows that a rider is due, he drops into the ordinary, and, casual like, finds out all he can as to when he rides
on, and by what road. Then he hurries off home and tells his man, and he goes and tells Moody, who gets his
men together and does the business.â

âI see. And how can we know where they set the ambush, so as to set a counter one?â

âItâs easy as can be. When they have the mail, it âs to Hennionâs barn they all goes, where they cut it open
and takes out everything as Clinton will pay for, and sends it off at once on one of the boats of provisions as
old Hennion is stealing into New York two or three times a week.â

âAh, that âs where heâs got the money to buy Greenwood, is it?â

âYes; I tell you heâs a traitor if there ever was one, colonel. But I guess heâll be nabbed now. All youâve got
to do is to hide your men in the barn to-morrow night, and youâll take the whole lot red-handed.â

âAnd I suppose you tell me this to get your revenge for this afternoon.â

âJust a little, colonel; but donât forget Iâm a patriot, who âs always trying to serve his country. Now Iâll tell
you how weâll do it. You bring your men down tâ other side of the river to Meeganâs place; and as soon as it
âs dark, Iâll come across the river in a sloop I own and will bring you right over to Hennionâs wharf, from
which it will be easy to steal into his barn without no one seeing us.â

Brereton made no answer for a minute, then said, âVery well; Iâll adopt your plan.â

âI suppose thereâll be some reward coming to me, colonel?â

âUndoubtedly,â replied Jack, but with a twitch of contempt. âIs that all?â

âThatâs enough to do the business, I guess,â rejoined Joe. âAbout nine clock Iâll allow to be at Meeganâs,â he
said.

Without a word of assent, Jack quickened his pace. When he had gone fifty feet he looked back, but already
the informer had disappeared. âWhat dirty work every man must do on occasion!â he muttered. âIâd suspect
the scoundrel but for what I heard this afternoon, and he has it all so pat that heâs probably been in it himself
more or less. However, it promises well; and ât will he a service of the utmost importance if we can but break
up the murdering gang and bring them to justice, for ât is no time to have Clinton reading all our secrets.â

LIX TRAITORS IN THE REAR 288

It was midnight when Brereton trotted into Chatham and dismounting from his horse walked wearily into his
tent.

His servant, sleeping on the floor, waked, and hastily rose. âA despatch, sir, from headquarters,â he said,
taking a paper from his pocket.

âWhen did it arrive?â demanded Jack, as he examined the seal, to make sure that it had not been tampered
with, and then broke the letter open.

âFour hours ago, sir, by special courier.â

What Brereton read was this:â

Headquarters, August 16, 1781.

Sir,âShould you have already taken steps looking to the discovery and seizure of those
concerned in the late robbing of the mails, you will hold all such proceedings in abeyance
until further orders. For military reasons it is even desired that the post-bag which will be sent
through to-morrow should fall into the hands of the enemy, and you will act accordingly. I
have the honour to be,

Yr. Obedt. hble Servt.

Go. Washington.

To Colonel Brereton,
Commanding the 3rd. New Jersey Regt.,
Stationed at Chatham.

Jack whistled softly, then smiled, âJoe will have a long wait,â he chuckled. âI wonder what âs up.â

He knew three days later, for orders came to him to put his regiment in motion and march for Philadelphia,
and the bearer of the despatch added that the united forces of Washington and Rochambeau were already
across the Hudson and would follow close upon his heels.

âWeâve made Sir Henry Clinton buy the information that we intend to attack New York,â the aide told him,
âand now we are off to trap Cornwallis in Virginia.â

LX
THE SPINNING OF THE WEB
Owing to the impossibility of the horses of Tarletonâs and Simcoeâs legions being ferried on the small boats
which transported the foot troops from Portsmouth to Yorktown, they had been left behind the rest of the
army, with directions to put themselves on board the frigate and sloops of war and effect a landing at
Hampton or thereabouts. This gave the commissary still more time free from the presence of Major Hennion,
but he had little reason to think it of advantage to him. At meal hours, since they had but one table, Janice
could not avoid his company, but otherwise she very successfully eluded him. Much of each day she spent
with her mother, who was ailing, and kept her room, and she made this an excuse for never remaining in those
shared by all in common. When she went out of doors, which, owing to the August heats, was usually towards
evening, she always took pains that the baron should not be in a position to join her, or even to know of her
having sallied forth. With the same object, she generally, as soon as she left the house, hurried through the

LX THE SPINNING OF THE WEB 289

little village and past the rows of tents of the encampment on the outskirts and the lines of earthworks upon
which the soldiery and negroes were working, until she reached the high point of land to the east, which
opened on Chesapeake Bay, where, feeling secure, she could enjoy herself in the orchard of the Moore house,
in the woods to the southward, or with sewing or a book, merely sit on the extreme point gazing off at the
broad expanse of water.

She was thus engaged on the afternoon of the 28th of August, when the rustle of footsteps made her look up
from her book, only to find that her precautions for once were futile, as it was the commissary who was
hastening toward her.

âI needed this,â he began, âto prove to me that you were not a witch, as well as a bewitcher, for, verily, I had
begun to think that by some black art ye flew out of your window at will. Nay,â he protested, as Janice,
closing her book, rose, âcall ye this fair treatment, Miss Meredith? Surely, if ye have no gratitude yourself, ye
should at least remember what I am doing for your father and mother, and not seek to shun me as if I were the
plague, rather than a man nigh mad with love for ye.â

ââT is that very fact, Lord Clowes,â replied Janice, gravely, âwhich has forced avoidance of you upon me.
Surely you must understand that, promised now as I am to another, both by my fatherâs word and by my own,
your suit cannot fail to distress me?â

âIs ât possible that, to please others, thee intends, then, to force thyself to marry this long-legged dragoon?â
protested Clowes. âHast thy father not told thee of thy own loss of Greenwood and of his undoubted loss of
Boxely?â

âOur loss of property, my Lord, but makes it all the more important that we save our good name; and if our
change of circumstance does not alter Major Hennionâs wishes, as I am certain it will not, we shall keep faith
with him.â

âEven though Lord Clowes offers ye position, wealth, and a home for your parents, not a one of which he can
give?â

âWere I not promised, Lord Clowes, nothing could induce me to marry you.â

âWhy not?â questioned the baron, warmly.

âMethinks, if you but search the past, sir, you cannot for an instant be in doubt. Obligations you have heaped
upon us at moments, for every one of which I thank you, but never could I bring myself to feel respect, far
less affection for you.â

The commissary, with knitted brows, started to speak, but checked himself and took half a dozen strides.
Returning, he said:â

âMiss Meredith, ât is not just to judge the future by the past. Can ye not understand that what I did in
Philadelphia, ay, every act of mine at which ye could take offence in our whole acquaintance, has been done
on heated impulse? If ye but knew a manâs feelings when he loves as I love, and finds no response to his
passion in the object of it, ye would pardon my every act.â

ââT is not alone your conduct to us, Lord Clowes, but as well that to others which has confirmed me in my
conviction.â

âYe would charge me withââ

LX THE SPINNING OF THE WEB 290

ââT is not I alone, my Lord, that you have deceived or injured, and you cannot plead for those the excuse you
plead to me.â

ââT is the circumstances of my parole of which ye speak?â demanded the baron.

âOf that and other things which have come to my knowledge.â

Again the suitor hesitated before saying, with a suggestion of glibness: âMiss Meredith, every ounce of blame
ye put upon my conduct I accept honestly and regretfully, but did ye but know all, I think ye would pity rather
than judge me in that heart which seems open to every one but me. From the day my father died in the
debtorâs prison and I was thrown a penniless boy of twelve upon the world, it has been one long fight to keep
head above water, till I got this appointment. The gentlemen of the army have told ye that I was a government
spy, I doubt not. I wonder what they would have been in my straits! Think ye any man is spy by choice? Am I
worse than the men who hired me to do the work, and who gained praise and rewards, even to the blue ribbon,
by the information I had got for them, while only scorn and shame was my portion? Think ye a life given to
indirection and worming, to prying and scheming, is one of self-choice? Hitherto I have done the dirty work
of ministers,âay, of kings; but from the day I leave this country, that is over and done with for ever, and their
once tool, now rich, will take his place among the very best of Englandâs peers, for money will buy a man
anything in London nowadays. âT is not alone that I love ye nigh to desperation that I beg your love; ât is that
your love will help to make me the honest-living man I ambition to be. But grant the longing of my life, and
Iâll pledge ye happiness. Ye shall write your own marriage settlement, a house, carriages, jewelsââ

âIndeed, Lord Clowes, even were my feelings less strong, you ask for what is now impossible.â

âBecause your father, with a short-sightedness that is wellnigh criminal, has tied ye to this fellow! Canât ye
perceive that the greatest service ye can render him will be to relieve him of the promise he has not the
courage to end? In a six-months heâll bless ye for the deed, if ye will but do it.â

Almost as if he had come to protect his rights, the voice of Major Hennion broke in upon them. âEverywhere
have I sought you for upwards of an hour,â he said, as he hurried toward them, âand began to fear that some
evil had befallen you.â He caught Janiceâs hand eagerly and kissed it.

âBut when did you arrive?â exclaimed the girl.

âThe legions were landed at Hampton Road this morning and reached camp an hour gone,â explained the
major. Still retaining her hand, he turned to Clowes and said, âIf I understood you aright, my Lord, you told
me you knew not where Miss Meredith was to be found?â

âAnd Miss Meredith will bear me out in the statement, sir, though I am quite willing that my word should
stand by itself,â retorted the commissary, tartly. âNor am I in the habit of having it questioned by colonial
striplings,â he added insultingly.

âNor am Iââ began Philemon, heatedly; but Janice checked him by laying her free hand on his arm.

ââT is naught to take umbrage at, Phil,â she said dissuadingly, âand do not by quarrelling over a foolish
nothing spoil my pleasure in seeing you.â

âThat Iâll not,â acceded the major, heartily. âAh, Janice,â he cried, unable to contain himself even before the
baron, âif you knew the thrill your words give me. Are you truly glad to see me?â

âYes, Phil, or I would not say so,â answered the girl, ingenuously.

LX THE SPINNING OF THE WEB 291

Lord Clowes, a scowl on his face, turned from the two, to avoid sight of Hennionâs look of gladness. This
brought him gazing seaward, and he gave an exclamation. âHo! What âs here?â

The two faced about at his question, to see, just appearing from behind the curve of the land to the southward,
a full-rigged ship, one mass of canvas from deck to spintle-heads, and with a single row of ports which
bespoke the man-of-war.

ââT is a frigate,â announced Clowes, âand no doubt sent to convoy the transports we have been awaiting. Yes;
there comes another. âT is the fleet, beyond question,â he continued, as the first vessel having opened from
the land, the bowsprit of a second began to appear.

The three stood silent as the two ships towering pyramids of sails, making them marvels of beauty, swept
onward with slow dignity across the mouth of the York River, at this point nearly three miles wide, toward the
Gloucester shore. Before they had gone a quarter of a mile, a third and larger vessel came sweeping into view,
her two rows of ports showing her to be a line-of-battle ship. Barely was she clear of the land when a string of
small flags broke out from her mizzen rigging, and almost as if by magic, the yard arms of all three vessels
were alive with men, and royals, top gallants, and mainsails with machine-like precision were dewed up and
furled, and each ship, stripped of all but its topsails, rounded to, with its head to the wind.

âThat is a strange manoeuvre,â remarked Philemon. âWhy stop they outside, instead of sailing up the river?â

âTheyâve hove to, no doubt, to wait a pilot, being strangers to the waters,â surmised Clowes, wheeling and
looking up the river townwards. âAy, there goes some signal from the âCharonâsâ truck,â he went on, as the
British frigate anchored off the town displayed three flags at her masthead.

Janice, thankful for the diversion the arrivals had caused, said something to Philemon in a low voice, and they
set out toward the town. Not noticing the obvious attempt to escape from his society, or to outward
appearance perturbed, the baron put himself alongside the two, and walked with them until the custom-house
was reached.

âWill you come in, Philemon, and see dadda and mommy?â questioned the girl, as the three halted at the
doorway.

As she spoke, an orderly, who a moment before had come out of headquarters, made towards the major, and,
saluting, said, âColonel Tarleton directs that you report at headquarters without delay, sir.â

âMy answer is made for me, Janice,â sighed Philemon. âI fear me ât is some vidette duty, and that once again
we are doomed to part, just as I thought my hour had come. Many more of such disappointments will turn me
from a soldier into a Quaker. However, ât is possible his Lordship wants but to put some questions, and, if so,
Iâll be with you shortly.â He crossed the street and entered the Nelson house.

Shown by the orderly to the room where Cornwallis was, he found with him his colonel and a man in the
uniform of a naval officer.

âAh, here he is,â said the British general. âMajor Hennion, the three ships which have taken station at the
mouth of the river pay no heed to the âCharonâs âsignals, nor are theirs to be read by our book, so ât is feared
that they are French ships. As ât is impossible to believe they would thus boldly venture into the bay if alone,
we wish to know if there are others below. Furnish Lieutenant Foley with a mount, and, with an escort of a
troop, guide him over the road you came to-day to some spot where a view of the roadstead at Old Point
Comfort is to be commanded.â Speaking to the naval officer, he enjoined, âYou will carefully observe any
shipping there may be, sir, and of what force, and report to me with the least possible delay.â

LX THE SPINNING OF THE WEB 292

It was a little after ten oâclock on the following day when a troop of hot and weary-looking horses and men
clattered along the main street of the town and drew up in front of headquarters. Throwing himself from the
saddle, Major Hennion hurried into the house. The moment he was in the presence of Cornwallis, he said: ââT
is as you surmised, general. Between thirty and forty sail stretch from Lynnhaven Bay to the mouth of the
James, and though ât was difficult to exactly estimate their force, they are mostly men of war, and some even
three-deckers.â

âBeyond question ât is the French West India fleet,â burst from Cornwallis. For a moment he was silent, then
sternly demanded, âWhere is Lieutenant Foley?â

âThe gentlemen of the navy, sir, are more used to oak than to leather, and we set him such a pace that twelve
miles back he could no longer sit his saddle, and we left him leading his horse, thinking this information could
not be brought you too soon.â

âIt but proves the old saying that âIll news has wings,ââ replied the earl, steadily, as he walked to the window
and looked out into the garden. Here he stood silently for so long that finally Hennion spoke.

âI beg your pardon, general,â he said, âbut am I dismissed?â

All the reply Cornwallis made him was to ask, âWhen you first came amongst us, major, you spoke with the
barbaric provincialism and nasal twang of your countrymen, but in your years with us you have lost them.
Could you upon occasion resume both?â

âIndeed, my Lord,â replied the officer, smiling, âât is even yet a constant struggle to keep from it.â

âThe word you bring must be got to Clinton without question of fail and with the least possible delay. Are you
willing to volunteer for a service of very great risk?â

âDoes your Lordship for a moment question it?â

âNot I. To-night we will try to steal a small sloop out of the river with a despatch for Clinton; but we must not
place our whole dependence on this means, and a second must be sent him overland. Get you a meal, sir, and
a fresh horse, and from some civilian or negro procure such clothes as are fitting for a travelling peddler. I will
order you a pack and a stock of such things as are appropriate from the public stores, and you shall at once be
rowed across the river and must make your way as best you can northward to New York. Dost understand?â

âAy, my Lord,â replied Major Hennion, his hand already on the door-latch.

Left alone, Cornwallis stood for a moment, his lips pressed together, then summoning an aide, he gave him
certain directions, after which, going to his writing-desk, he pulled out a drawer and from it took quite a batch
of Continental and State currency. Seating himself at his desk, he laid one of the notes upon it, and taking his
penknife he very neatly and dexterously split the bill through half its length. Taking from his pocket a wallet,
he drew from it a sheet of paper covered with numbers and syllables, which was indorsed, âCipher No. I.â
Writing on a scrap of paper a few words, he then alternately looked at what he had penned and at the cipher,
taking down on one of the inner surfaces of the bill a series of numbers. Scarcely had he done his task when a
knock came at the door, and in response to his summons a negress entered.

ââScuse me, your Lordship,â she said with a bob. âDe captain, he say youse done want a leetle flour gum.â

âYes. Give it to me and leave the room,â answered the earl.

LX THE SPINNING OF THE WEB 293

Touching his finger in the saucer she had brought, Cornwallis rubbed it inside the split along the three edges,
and then laying the bill on his desk, he patted the edges where they had been split, together, wiping them clean
with his handkerchief. Running over the pile of currency, he sorted out some fifty notes, then taking a sheet of
paper, he began a letter.

Before the earl had finished what he was writing, he was again interrupted, and the new-comer proved to be
Major Hennion, clothed in an old suit of butternut-coloured linen. And as if in laying aside his red coat,
shorts, and boots he had as well laid aside military rank, he seemed to have already reverted to his old slouch.

âGood,â exclaimed Cornwallis, as he rose. âAre your other preparations all made?â

âEvery one, general; and my horse and pack are already at the river-side.â

The earl took the pile of sorted bills from his desk and handed them to Hennion. âThere is the money to pay
your way,â he said, âall Continental Loan office or Virginia currency, save one of North Carolina for forty
shillings, which on no account are you to part with, even if any one in the States to the northward will accept
it, for I have split it open and written within it to Sir Henry Clinton the news I have to tell. Say to him that a
few moments in water will serve to part the edges where they have been gummed together. I give you the
note, that if you are caught, you may still find some means to send it on. But lest by mischance it should be
lost or taken from you, and you should yet be able to reach New York, I have here the words I have written in
cipher within the bill. Have you a good memory?â

âFor facts, if not for words, my Lord.â

The general took up from his desk the little memorandum he had written before using his cipher and read out:
âAn enemyâs fleet within the Capes. Between thirty and forty ships of war, mostly large.â âSpare not your
speed, sir, yet take no unnecessary risk,â ended the earl, as he held out his hand.

As Hennion took it, he said: âI will endeavour not to fail your Lordship in either respect; in going, however, I
have one favour to crave of you. I leave behind me my promised bride, Miss Meredith; and I beg of you that
she shall not want for any service that your Lordship can render her, or that I could do were I but here.â

ââT is given,â promised the earl, and on the word Hennion hurried from the room. Crossing the street, he
knocked at the custom-house, and of the servant inquired, âIs Miss Meredith within?â

âNo, sir,â replied the soldier.

Where is she?â

âI know not, sir. She left the house an hour ago.â

With something suspiciously like an oath, the major turned away and, hurrying along the street, descended
that which sloped down the bluff to the river. Here stood an officer, while in the water lay a flatboat which
already held, besides two rowers, a horse and a pair of fat saddle-bags. Without a word Phil jumped in and the
rowers struck their oars into the water.

At the same time that Major Hennionâs party had been despatched to gain news of the fleet, other troops of
Tarletonâs and Simcoeâs cavalry had been thrown out on scouting parties across the peninsula to the James,
and the following day they brought word that the French were busily engaged in landing troops from their
ships at Jamestown, with the obvious intention of effecting a junction with Lafayetteâs brigades, which were
at Williamsburg. A council of war was held that evening to debate whether the British force should not march

LX THE SPINNING OF THE WEB 294

out and attack them; but it was recognised that even if they completely crushed the French and Americans,
they had themselves made escape southward impossible by the care with which they had destroyed the bridges
and ferries in their march into Virginia, while if they fled northward, they would certainly have to fight
Washingtonâs army long before they could reach New York. It was therefore unanimously voted that the least
hazardous course was to remain passive in their present position.

Five days after this decision, a deserter from Lafayetteâs camp came into the British lines, bringing with him
the news that it was openly talked in Williamsburg that Washington and Rochambeau, with their armies, were
coming to join the troops already in Virginia. Nor were the British long able to continue their doubting of his
assertions, for a Tory brought in the same tale, and with it a copy of the âBaltimore Journal,â which printed
the positive statement that the Northern army was on the march southward and was already arrived at
Wilmington. A second council of war was therefore summoned to debate once again their difficulties; but ere
the general and field officers had met, a schooner, eluding the French vessels which blockaded the mouth of
the river, arrived from New York, bringing a despatch from Sir Henry Clinton, in which he assured the
encircled general that the British fleet would quickly sail to relieve him, and that he himself, with four
thousand men, would follow close upon its heels. The order for the council was therefore recalled; and
Cornwallis turned the whole energies of the force under his command to strengthening his lines and in other
ways making ready to resist the gathering storm.

LXI
IN THE TOILS
On the morning of the 6th of October, twelve thousand American and French soldiers lay encamped in the
form of a broad semi-circle almost a mile from the British earthworks about Yorktown. Still nearer, in a deep
ravine, above which were some outworks that had been abandoned by the British on the approach of the allies,
were the outposts; and these, lacking tents, had hutted themselves with boughs. Intermittently came the roar of
a cannon from the British lines, and those in the hollow could occasionally see and hear a shell as it screeched
past them overhead; but they gave not one-tenth the heed to it that they gave to the breakfast they were
despatching. Indeed, their sole grumblings were at the meagreness of the ration which had been dealt out to
them the night before ere they had been marched forward into their present position; and as a field officer,
coming from the American camp, descended into the ravine, these found open expression.

ââT is mighty fine fer the ginral ter say in the ginral orders that he wants us if attacked ter rely on the
bagonet,â spoke up one of the murmurers loud enough to make it evident that he intended the officer to
overhear him; âbut no troops kin fight on a shred oâ salt pork and a mouthful of collards.â

The officer halted, and speaking more to all those within hearing than to the man, said: âYou got as good as
any of the Continental regiments, boys, and better than some.â

âThat may be, kunâl,â answered the complainant, âbut how about the dandies?â

âYes,â assented the officer. âWe sent the French regiments all the flour and fresh meat the commissaries
could lay hands on, I grant you. Is there one of you who would have kept it from them for his own benefit?â

âPâraps not,â acknowledged another, âbut that donât make it any the less unfairsome.â

âRemember they come to help us, and are really our guests. Nor are they accustomed to the privation we
know too well. General Washington has surety that you can fight on an empty stomach, for youâve done it
many a time, but he is not so certain of the French.â

LXI IN THE TOILS 295

The remark was greeted with a general laugh, which seemed to dissipate the grievance.

âLord!â exclaimed a corporal; âthem fine birds do need careful tending.â

ââT ainât ter be wondered at thet the Frenchies is so keerful ter bring their tents with âem,â remarked a third.
âWhatever would happen ter one oâ them Soissonnais fellers, with his rose-coloured facings anâ his white anâ
rose feathers, if he had ter sleep in a bowery along oâ us? Some on âem looks so pretty, thet it donât seem
right ter even trust âem out in a heavy dew.â As he ended, the speaker looked down at his own linen overalls.
âT ainât no shakes they laughs a bit at us an wonât believe we are really snogers.â

ââT is for us to make them laugh the other way before weâve done Cornwallisâs business,â remarked the
officer. âBut make up your minds to one thing, boys, if their caps are full of feathers and their uniforms more
fit for a ball-room than for service, these same fine-plumaged birds can fight; and there must be no lagging if
we are to prove ourselves their betters, or even their equals.â

âWeâll show âem what the Jarsey game-cocks kin do, an donât you be afeared, kunâl.â

As the assertion was made, a group of officers appeared on the brow of the ravine, and the colonel turned and
went forward to meet them as they descended.

âHow far in advance are your pickets, Colonel Brereton?â one of them asked.

âAbout three hundred paces, your Excellency.â

âAnd is the ground open?â demanded a second of the party, with a markedly French accent.

âThere is some timber cover, General du Portail, but ât is chiefly open and rolling.â

âWe wish, sir, to advance as far as can be safely effected,â said Washington, âand shall rely on you for
guidance.â

âThis way, sir,â answered Brereton; and the whole party ascended out of the hollow through a side ravine
which brought them into a clump of poplars occupied by a party of skirmishers, and which commanded a
view of the British earthworks. Halting at the edge of the timber, glasses were levelled, and each man began a
study of the enemyâs lines. Scarcely had they taken position when a puff of smoke rose from one of the
redoubts, and a shell came screeching towards them, passing high enough to cut the branches of the trees over
their heads, and bringing them falling among the group. A minute later a solid shot struck directly in their
front, causing all except the commander-in-chief to fall back out of sight among the trees; but he, apparently
unmoved by the danger, calmly continued observing the enemiesâ works, and though directly in their view,
for some reason they did not fire again.

When Washington finally turned about and rejoined the group, he said to Brereton: âKeep your men, sir, as
they are at present disposed, out of sight of the batteries, till evening; then push your pickets forward as close
to the town as they can venture, with orders to fall back, unless attacked, only with daylight. Last night the
British put outside their lines a number of blacks stricken with the small-pox; you will order your skirmishers,
therefore, to fire on them if they endeavour to repeat the attempt, for even the dictates of humanity cannot
allow us to jeopardise the health of our army. Hold your regiment in readiness to move out at nightfall in
support of the pioneers who will begin breaking ground this evening. Further and specific orders will reach
you later through the regular channels.â

LXI IN THE TOILS 296

It was already dark when Brereton, guiding General du Portail and the engineers, once more came out upon
the plain. Following after them were a corps of sappers and miners, regiments detailed as pioneers, carrying
intrenching tools, regiments armed as usual, to support them if attacked, and carts loaded with bags of sand,
empty barrels, fascines, and gabions. Advancing cautiously, each man keeping touch with the one in front of
him, they went forward until within six hundred yards of the British position. Without delay, by means of
lanterns which were screened from the foe by being carried in half-barrels, the engineering tapes were laid
down, and with pick and shovel the fatigue party went to work, the eagerness of the men being such that,
despite of orders, the men from the supporting regiments, leaving their muskets in charge of their
fellow-soldiers, would join in the toil. Nor did their colonels reprove them for this; but, on the contrary,
Brereton, finding six men from one company engaged in rolling a large rock out of the ditch and to the top of
the rapidly waxing pile of earth in its rear, said approvingly: âWell done, boys. Iâve a wager with the Marquis
de Chastellux that an American battery fires the first shot, and I see you intend that I shall win the bet.â

âArrah, ât is in yez pocket aready, colonel,â cried one of the sappers. âSure, how kin a Frinchman expect to
bate us whin nary ground-hog nor baver, the aither av thim, is theer in his counthry to tache him how to work
wid earth anâ timber?â

So well was the night spent that when morning dawned the British found a long line of new earthworks
stretched along their front; and though instantly their guns began cannonading them, the men were now
protected and could dig on, unheeding of the fire. Indeed, such was the enthusiasm that when at six oâclock
the order came for the regiments to fall in, and it was found that they were to be replaced by fresh troops,
there was open grumbling. ââT is we did the work,â complained a sergeant, âand now them fellows who slept
all night will steal the glory.â

âNot a bit of it, boys,â denied Brereton, as he was passing down the lines preparatory to giving the order of
march. âThere are still redoubts to be made and the guns are not up yet. âT will come our turn in the trenches
again before they are.â

Their commander spoke wittingly, for two days it took to get the trenches, and the redoubts thrown out in
advance of them, completed, and the heavy siege-guns were not moved forward until after dark on the 8th. All
night long and the most of the following morning the men toiled, placing them in position, paying no attention
to the unceasing thunder of the British guns, unless to stop momentarily and gaze with admiration at the
shells, each with its tail of fire, as they curved through the air, or to crack a joke over some one which flew
especially near.

âBark away,â laughed one, as he affectionately patted a twenty-four pounder just moved into its position,
while shaking his other fist toward Yorktown. âScold while ye kin, for ât is yer last chance. Like men, weâve
sat silent for nine days, anâ let ye, like women, do the talkinâ, but it âs to-morrow morninâ yeâll find that, if
weâve kept still, it âs not been for want of a tongue.â

It was noon when Brereton came hurrying into the battery to find the men sleeping among the guns, where
they had dropped after their hard labour.

âHow is it, Jack?â questioned the officer in command.

âGeneral du Portail has reported the battery completed, and he tells me weâve beat the French by at least two
hours.â

A wild yell of joy broke from one of the apparently unconscious men, bringing most of the sleepers
scrambling to their feet and grasping for their weapons. âI said they could never dig in them clothes!â he
cried.

LXI IN THE TOILS 297

ââT is however to be another âGentlemen of the guards, fire first,ââ went on Brereton. âGeneral Washington,
as a compliment to the French, has decided that their guns shall fire the first shot.â

A growl came from the captain of the nearest cannon. âI promised the old gal,â he muttered discontentedly,
his hand on his thirty-two pounder, âthat she should begin it, anâ sheâs sighted to knock over that twelve
pounder that âs been teasinâ us, or may I never fire gun agin.â

âSheâll do it just as well on the second shot,â said Colonel Lamb, âand who cares which fires first, since
weâve beat them.â

It was three oâclock when Washington and Rochambeau, accompanied by their staffs, came out of the
covert-way which permitted entrance and egress to a French redoubt, from the trenches in its rear, and
infantry and gunners came to the âpresent.â

âVotre Excellence,â said Colonel dâAboville, saluting, âmoi cannoniers vous implorent de leur donner
lâhonneur immortel en mettant feu au premier coup de cannon.â

Washington, realizing that the speech was addressed to him, turned to Rochambeau with a helpless and
questioning look.

âZay desire zat your Excellency does zem ze honneur to fire ze first gun,â explained the French general.

Washington removed his hat and bowed. âTry as we will, count,â he said, âwe cannot equal your nation in
politeness.â In silence he stepped forward to the gun the colonel indicated, and the captain of the piece handed
him the loggerhead with a salute and then fell back respectfully.

Washington touched the red-hot iron to the port fire; there was a puff of smoke, a deafening crash; and the
great gun gave a little jump, as if for joy. A thousand pairs of eyes strained after the solid shot as it flew, then
as it disappeared over the British earthworks and was heard to go tearing its way through some wall a great
shout went up from one end of the lines of the allies, to the other.

Instantly came the roar of the other five cannon, and two ten-inch mortars echoed their thunder by sending
ten-inch shells curving high in the air. Ere they descended one of the guns peeping from a British redoubt rose
on end and disappeared; raising another cheer. At last the siege was begun.

As if to prove that the foe was nothing daunted, a solid shot, just topping the redoubt, tore through the middle
of the group of generals, scattering sand and pebbles over them. Colonel Cobb, who stood nearest
Washington, turning impulsively, said, âSir, you are too much exposed here. Had you not better step back a
little?â

âIf you are afraid, Colonel Cobb,â quietly answered Washington, âyou have liberty to step back.â

By dark three batteries were firing, and all through the night the guns on both sides rained shot and shell at
each other. Two more batteries of thirty-two pounders opened fire on the 10th, and by hot shot set fire that
evening to the âCharonâ frigate, making a sight of marvellous grandeur, for the ship became one mass of fire
from the waterâs edge to her spintle-heads, all her ports belching flame and each spar and every rope ablaze at
the same moment. The morning of the 11th found fifty-two pieces of artillery mounted and hurling a storm of
projectiles into the British lines; and that evening, a second parallel was opened, bringing the guns of the
besiegers less than three hundred yards from their earthworks, and putting all parts of the town within range.
After this was completed, the defensive fire slackened, for every gun with which the garrison sought to make
reply was dismounted the moment it was advanced into the embrasure, compelling their withdrawal during

LXI IN THE TOILS 298

daylight hours; and though each night as soon as dark screened them from the accurate gunnery of the
Americans, they were restored and the firing renewed, it was done with a feebleness that bespoke
discouragement and exhaustion. For two days shot and shell splintered and tore through abattis and fraising,
and levelled parapet and ditch, almost unanswered.

To the right of the new parallel, and almost enfilading it by their fire, were two detached redoubts of the
British, well in advance of their main lines. To end their destructive cross fire, as well as to complete the
investiture, it was determined to carry them by assault; and as dark settled down on the evening of the 14th,
two storming parties, one of French grenadiers and chasseurs, drawn from the brigade of the Baron de
Viomenil and under the command of the Comte de Deuxponts, and the second, of American light infantry,
taken from the division of the Marquis de Lafayette and commanded by Alexander Hamilton, were moved out
of the trenches, and, followed by strong supporting battalions, were advanced as far as was prudent.

It was while the American forlorn hope was standing at ease, awaiting the signal, that Colonel Brereton came
hurrying up to where Hamilton and Laurens were whispering final details.

âI could nât keep out of this,â he explained; âand the marquis was good enough to say I might serve as a
volunteer.â

âThe more the merrier,â responded Laurens. âCome along with me, Jack. We are to take the fort in the rear,
and you shall have your stomach full of fighting, Iâll warrant you. Here, put this paper in your hat, if you
donât want to be stuck by our own men.â

Hamilton, turning from the two, addressed the three battalions. âLight infantry,â he said, âwhen the council of
war reached the decision to carry the works in our front, Baron de Viomenil argued that both should be left to
his troops, as the American soldiery could not be depended upon for an assault. The commander-in-chief
would not disgrace us by yielding to his claim, and ât is for us to prove that he was right. We have shown the
French artillerists that we can serve our guns quicker and more accurately; now let us see if we cannot prove
ourselves the swifter and steadier at this work. Let the sergeants see to it that each man in his file has a piece
of paper in his hat, and that each has removed the flint from his gun. I want you to carry the redoubt without a
shot, by the bayonet alone.â

A murmur of assent and applause passed along the lines, and then all stood listening for the signal. It was a
night of intense darkness, and now, after ten days of unending bombardment, the cannonading had entirely
ceased, giving place to a stillness which to ears so long accustomed to the uproar seemed to have a menacing
quality in it.

Suddenly a gun boomed loud and clear; and as its echo reverberated out over the river, every man clutched his
musket more firmly. Boom! went a second close upon the first, and each soldier drew a deep breath as if to
prepare for some exertion. Boom! went a third, and a restless undulation swept along the lines. Boom! for a
fourth time roared a cannon, and some of the men laughed nervously. Boom! rolled out yet a fifth, and the
ranks stood tense and rigid, every ear, every sense, straining.

Boom! crashed the sixth gun, and not a man needed the âForward, light infantry!â of the commander, every
one of them being in motion before the order was given. Steadily they advanced in silence, save only for
muttered grumbles here and there over the slowness of the pace.

Without warning, out of the blackness came a challenge, âWho goes there?â

Making no answer, the stormers broke into a run and swept forward with a rush.

LXI IN THE TOILS 299

âBang!â went a single musket; and had it been fired into a mine, the tremendous uproar that ensued could not
have come more instantaneously, for twenty cannon thundered, and the redoubts fairly seemed to spit fire as
the defendersâ muskets flashed. High in the air rose rockets, which lit up the whole scene, and for the time
they lasted fairly turned the night into day.

As the main and flanking parties swept up to the redoubt, the sappers and miners, who formed the first rank,
attacked the abattis with their axes; but the troops, mad with long waiting and fretted by the galling fire of the
foe, would not wait, and, pushing them aside, clambering, boosting, and tumbling went over the obstruction.
Not pausing to form in the ditch, they scrambled up the parapet and went surging over the crest, pell-mell,
upon the British.

Brereton, sword in hand, had half sprung, half been tossed upon the row of barrels filled with earth which
topped the breastworks, only to face a bayonet which one of the garrison lunged up at him. A sharp prick he
felt in his chest; but as in the quick thought of danger he realised his death moment, the weapon, instead of
being driven home, was jerked back, and the soldier who had thrust with it cried:â

âCharlie!â

âFred!â exclaimed Jack, and the two men caught each other by the hand and stood still while the invaders
poured past them over the barrels.

It was Mobray who spoke first. âOh, Charlie!â he almost sobbed, âone misery at least has been saved me! My
God! You bleed.â

âA pin-prick only, Fred. But what does this mean? You! and in the ranks.â

âAy, and for three years desperately seeking a death which will not come!â

âAnd the Fusileers?â

âHold this redoubt. Oh, Charlie, to think that your sword should ever be raised against the old regiment!â

As Mobray spoke, came a cry from the garrison, âWe yield!â and the clatter of their weapons could be heard
as they were grounded, or were thrown to the earth.

âQuick!â cried Brereton, fairly hauling Sir Frederick to where he stood. âRun, Fred! At least, you shall be no
prisoner.â Jack gave him a last squeeze of the hand and a shove, which sent his friend fairly staggering down
into the ditch.

Mobray sprang through a break in the abattis, but had not run ten feet when he turned and shouted back
something which the thundering of the artillery prevented Brereton from entirely hearing, but the words he
distinguished were sufficient to make him catch at the barrels for support, for they were:â

âJanice Meredith ⦠Yorktown ⦠point of death ⦠small-pox.â

For a moment Brereton stood in a kind of daze; but as the full horror of Mobrayâs words came home to him,
he groaned. Turning, he plunged down into the fortress with a look of a man bereft, and striding to the
commander cried, âFor Godâs sake, Hamilton, give me something to do!â

âThe very man I wanted,â replied the little colonel. âCarry word to the marquis that the redoubt is ours, and
that the supports may advance.â

LXI IN THE TOILS 300

Dashing out of the now open sally port, Jack ran at his top speed, and within two minutes delivered the report
to General de Lafayette.

"Ah, mes braves,â ejaculated the marquis, triumphantly. âMy own countreemen they thought they would not it
do, and now my boys, they have the fort before Deuxponts has his,â he went on, as he pointed into the
darkness, out of which could be seen the flash of muskets. âAh, we will teach the baron a lesson. Colonel
Barber,â he ordered, turning to his aide, âride at your best quickness to General Viomenil; tell him, with my
compliments, that our fort, it is ours, and that we can give him the assistance, if he needs it.â

The help was not needed, for in five minutes the second outpost was also in the possession of the allies.
Working parties were at once thrown forward, and before morning the two captured positions were connected
with and made part of the already established parallel.

The fall of these two redoubts in turn opened an enfilading fire on the British, and in desperation, just before
dawn on the 15th a sortie was made, and the French were driven out of one of the batteries, and the guns
spiked but the advantage could not be held against the reserves that came up at the first alarm, and they were
in turn forced out at the point of the bayonet.

On the morning of the 16th almost a hundred heavy guns and mortars were in position; and for twenty-four
hours the whole peninsula trembled, as they poured a torrent of destructive, direct, and raking fire, at the
closest range, into the weakened defences and crumbling town, with scarcely pretence of resistance from the
hemmed in and exhausted British, every shot which especially told being greeted with cheers from the
trenches of the allies.

One there was in the uniform of a field officer, who never cheered, yet who, standing in a recklessly exposed
position, staringly followed each solid shot as it buried itself in the earthworks, or, passing over them, was
heard to strike in the town, and each shell, as it curved upwards and downwards in its great arc. Sometimes
the explosion of the latter would throw fragments of what it destroyed in the air,âearth, shingles, bricks, and
even human limbs,âraising a cry of triumph from those who served the piece, but he only pressed his lips the
more tightly together, as if enduring some torture. Nor could he be persuaded to leave his place for food or
sleep, urge who would, but with careworn face and haggard eyes never left it for thirty hours. Occasionally,
when for a minute or two there would come an accidental break in the firing, his lips could be seen to move as
if he were speaking to himself. Not one knew why he stood there following each shot so anxiously, or little
recked that, when there was not one to fasten his attention, he saw instead a pair of dark eyes shadowed by
long lashes, delicately pencilled eyebrows, a low fore-head surmounted by a wealth of darkest brown hair, a
little straight nose, cheeks scarcely ever two minutes the same tint, and lips that, whether they spoke or no,
wooed as never words yet did. And as each time the vision flashed out before him, he would half mutter, half
sob a prayer:â

âOh, God, rob her of her beauty if you will, but do not let disease or shot kill her.â

It was he, watching as no other man in all those lines watched, who suddenly, a little after ten oâclock on the
morning of the 17th, shouted:â

âCease firing!â

Every man within hearing turned to him, and then looked to where his finger pointed.

On the top of a British redoubt stood a red-coated drummer, to the eye beating his instrument, but the sound
of it was drowned in the roar of the guns. As the order passed from battery to battery, the thunder gradually
ceased, and all that could be heard was the distant riffle of the single drum, sounding âThe Parley.â Once the

LXI IN THE TOILS 301

cessation of the firing was complete, an officer, whose uniform and accoutrements flashed out brilliantly as
the eastern sun shone on them, mounted the works, and standing beside the drummer slowly waved a white
flag.

LXII
WITHIN THE LINES
One there was in Yorktown whose suffering was to the eye as great as he who had watched from the outside.
A sudden change came over Clowes with the realisation of their danger. He turned white on the confirmation
of the arrival of the French fleet; and when the news spread through the town that a deserter had arrived from
the American camp with word of Washingtonâs approach, he fell on the street in a fit, out of which he came
only when he had been cupped, and sixty ounces of blood taken from him. Not once after that did he seek out
Janice, or even come to the custom-house for food or sleep, but pale, and talking much to himself he
wandered restlessly about the town, or still more commonly stood for hours on the highest point of land which
opened a view of the bay, gazing anxiously eastward for the promised English fleet.

Janice was too occupied, however, with her mother even to note this exemption. The exposure and fatigue of
the long, hot march to Yorktown had proved too great a tax upon Mrs. Meredithâs strength, and almost with
their arrival she took to her bed and slowly developed a low tidal fever, not dangerous in its character, but
unyielding to the doctorâs ministrations.

It was on the day that the videttes fell back on the town, bringing word that the allies were advancing, that the
girl noticed so marked a change in her mother that she sent for the army surgeon, and that she had done wisely
was shown by his gravity after a very cursory examination.

âMiss Meredith,â he said, âthis nursing is like to be of longer duration than at first seemed probable, and will
over-tax your strength. âT is best, therefore, that you let us move Mrs. Meredith into the army hospital, where
she can be properly tended, and you saved from the strain.â

âI could not but stay with her, doctor,â answered Janice; âbut if you think it best for her that she be moved, I
can as well attend her there.â

The surgeon bit his lip, then told her, âIâll try to secure you permission, if your father think it best.â He went
downstairs, and finding the squire said: âMr. Meredith, I have very ill news for you. It has been kept from the
army, but there has been for some days an outbreak of small-pox among the negroes, and now your wife is
attacked by it.â

âDonât say it, man!â implored the squire.

ââT is, alas! but too true. It is necessary that she be at once removed on board the hospital ship, and I shall
return as quickly as possible with my assistants and move her. The more promptly you call your daughter
from her bedside, the better, for ât will just so much lessen the chance of contagion.â

Before the father had well broken the news to Janice, or could persuade her to leave the invalid, the surgeon
was returned, and, regardless of the girlâs prayers and tears, her mother was placed upon a stretcher, carried to
the river-side, and then transferred to the pest-ship, which was anchored in mid-stream. Against his better
judgment, but unable to resist his daughterâs appeals, the squire sought out Cornwallis with the request that
she might be allowed to attend Mrs. Meredith on the ship, but the British general refused.

LXII WITHIN THE LINES 302

âNot only would it be contrary to necessary rules, sir, but it would merely expose her needlessly. Fear not that
Mrs. Meredith will lack the best of care, for I will give especial directions to the surgeons. My intention was
to send a flag, as soon as the enemy approached, with a request that I might pass you all through the lines, out
of danger; and this is a sad derangement to the wish, for General Washington would certainly refuse passage
to any one sick of this disease, and all must justify him in the refusal. I still think that ât would be best to let
me apply for leave for you and Miss Meredith to go out, butââ

âNeither the lass nor I would consider it for a moment, though grateful to your Lordship for the offer.â

[Illustration: âWhere are you going?â]

âThen I will see that you have room in one of the bomb-proofs, but ât will be a time of horror, that I warn
you.â

He spoke only too truly, and the misery of the next twenty days are impossible to picture. The moment the
bombardment began, father and daughter were forced to seek the protection of one of the caves that had been
dug in the side of the bluff; and here, in damp, airless, almost dark, and fearfully overcrowded quarters, they
were compelled to remain day and night during the siege. Almost from the first, scarcity of wood produced an
entire abandonment of cooked food, every one subsisting on raw pork or raw salt beef, or, as Janice chose,
eating only ship biscuit and unground coffee berries. Once the fire of the allies began to tell, each hour
supplied a fresh tale of wounded, and these were brought into the bomb-proofs for the surgeons to tend, their
presence and moans adding to the nightmare; yet but for them it seemed to Janice she would have gone mad in
those weeks, for she devoted herself to nursing and feeding them, as an escape from dwelling on her motherâs
danger and their own helplessness. Even news from the pest-ship had its torture, for when her father twice
each day descended the bluff to get the word from the doctorâs boat, as it came ashore, she stood in the low
doorway of the cave, and at every shot that was heard shrieking through the air, and at every shell which
exploded with a crash, she held her breath, full of dread of what it might have done, and in anguish till her
father was safe returned with the unvarying and uncheering bulletin the surgeons gave him of Mrs. Meredithâs
condition.

Yet those in the bomb-proofs escaped the direst of the horrors. Above them were enacted scenes which turned
even the stoutest hearts sick with fear and loathing. The least of these was the slaughter of the horses,
baggage, cavalry, and artillery, which want of forage rendered necessary, one whole day being made hideous
by the screams of the poor beasts, as one by one they were led to a spot where the putrefying of their carcasses
would least endanger the health of the soldiery, and their throats cut. All pretence of care of the negroes
disappeared with the demand on the officers and soldiers to man the redoubts, and on the surgeons to care for
the sick and wounded soldiers, who soon numbered upwards of two thousand. Naked and half starving, they
who had dreamed of freedom were left for the small-pox and putrid fever and for shot and shell to work their
will among them. In the abandoned houses and even in the streets, they lay, sick, dismembered, dying, and
dead, with not so much as one to aid or bury them.

On the morning of the 17th a fresh number of wounded men were brought into the already overcrowded cave;
and though Janice was faint with the long days of anxiety, fright, bad air, poor food, and hard work, she went
from man to man, doing what could be done to ease their torments and lessen their groans. The last brought in
was in a faint, with the lower part of his face and shoulder horribly torn and shattered by the fragments of a
shell, but a little brandy revived him, and he moaned for water. Hurriedly she stooped over him, to drop a little
from a spoon between the open lips.

âJanice!â he startled her by crying.

âWho areâ? Oh, Sir Frederick!â she exclaimed. âYou! How came you here?â

LXII WITHIN THE LINES 303

âThey let me out of the prison Clowes me put in,â Mobray gasped; âand having nothing better, I enlisted in
the ranks under another name.â There he choked with blood.

âDoctor,â called Janice, âcome quickly!â

âHumph!â growled the surgeon, after one glance. âYou should not summon me to waste time on him. Canât
you see ât is hopeless?â

âOh, donâtââ began Janice.

âNay, he speaks the truth,â said Mobray; âand I thank God ât is so. Donât cry. I am glad to go; and though I
have wasted my life, ât is a happier death than poor John Andréâs.â

For a moment only the sobs of the girl could be heard, then the dying man gaspingly resumed: âA comrade I
once had whom I loved best in this world till I knew you. By a strange chance we loved the same girl; I wish I
might die with the knowledge that he is to have the happiness that was denied to me.â

âOh, Sir Frederick, you must not ask it! Heââ

âHis was so bitter a story that he deserves a love such as yours would be to make it up to him. I can remember
him the merriest of us all, loved by every man in the regiment, from batman to colonel.â

âAnd what changed him?â Janice could not help asking.

âT was one evening at the mess of the Fusileers, when Powel, too deep in drink to know what he was saying,
blurted out something concerning Mrs. Loringâs relations with Sir William. Poor Charlie was the one man in
the force who knew not why such favouritism had been shown in his being put so young into Howeâs
regiment. But that we were eight to one, heâd have killed Powel then and there. Prevented in that, he set off to
slay his colonel, never dreaming he was his own father. He burst in on me late that night, crazed with grief,
and told me how he had found him at his motherâs, and how she had robbed him of his vengeance by a word.
The next day he disappeared, and never news had I of him until that encounter at Greenwood. Does he not
deserve something to sweeten his life?â

âI feel for him deeply,â replied the girl, sadly, âthe more that I did him a grave wrong in my thoughts, and by
some words I spoke must have cut him to the quick and added pain to pain.â

âThen you will make him happy?â

âNo, Sir Frederick, that I cannot.â

âDonât punish him for what was not his fault.â

ââT is not for that,â she explained. âOnce I loved him, I own. But in a moment of direst need, when I appealed
to him, he failed me; and though now I better understand his resentment against my father and myself I could
never bring myself to forgive his cruelty, even were my love not dead.â

âI will not believe it of him. Hot and impulsive he is by nature, but never cruel or resentful.â

ââT is, alas! but too true,â grieved Janice.

LXII WITHIN THE LINES 304

Once again the baronet choked with blood and struggled for a moment convulsively. Then more faintly he
said: âWilt give him my love and a good-by?â

âI will,â sobbed the girl.

Nothing more was said for some time, then Mobray asked faintly: âIs it that I am losing consciousness, or has
the firing eased?â

Janice raised her head with a start. âWhy, it has stopped,â she exclaimed. âWhat can it mean?â

âThat courage and tenacity have done their all, and now must yield. Poor Cornwallis! I make no doubt heâd
gladly change places with me at this instant.â

Here Mr. Meredithâs voice broke in upon them, as standing in the mouth of the cave he called: âCome, Janice.
The firing has ceased, to permit an exchange of flags with the rebels. Up with ye, and get the fresh air while
ye can.â

âI will stay here, father,â replied the girl, âand care forââ

âNonsense, lass! Ye shall not kill yourself. I order ye to come away.â

âGo, Miss Meredith,â begged Mobray. âYou can do naught for me, andâandâI would haveâDo as he says.â
His hand blindly groped until Janice placed hers within it, when he gave it a weak pressure as he said, ââT is
many a long march and many a sleepless night that the memory of you has sweetened. Thank you, and
good-by.â

Reluctantly Janice came out of the bomb-proof, blinking and gasping with the novelty of sunlight and sea
breeze, after the darkness and stench of the last weeks; and her father, partly supporting, led her up the bluff.
It was a strange transformation that greeted her eyes,âploughed-up streets and ruins of buildings dismantled
by shot or left heaps of ashes by the shell, everywhere telling of the fury of the siege.

Keep your eyes closed, lass,â suggested the squire, âfor there are sights of horror. In a moment Iâll have ye at
headquarters, where things have been kept more tidy. There, now ye can look; sit down here and fill your
lungs with this good air.â

Silently the two seated themselves on the steps of the Nelson house, now pierced in every direction by the
shot of the allies, though less damaged than many others. Presently Janiceâs attention was caught by the sound
of shuffling footsteps, as of one with only partial use of his legs, and glancing up she gave a slight cry of fear.
And well she might, for there stood the commissary, with his face like one risen from the dead, it was so white
and staring.

âMeredith,â he whispered, as if his larynx were parched beyond the ability to speak aloud, while with one
hand he held his throat in a vain attempt to make his speech less weak and raucous, âthey say âThe Parleyâ
has been beat and a flag sent out, and that the post is to be surrendered. Tell me that Cornwallis will never do
that. He âs a brave man. Tell me it is nât so.â

âNothing else is there for him to do, Clowes. He âs made a splendid defence, but now scarce a gun is left
mounted and powder and shot are both exhausted; to persist longer would be useless murder.â

âNo, no! Let him hold out a few days longer. Clinton will relieve us yet. He must nât give up. God! Meredith,
theyâll hang me! He must nât surrender. I canât die just as life is worth something. No, no! I canât die now.

LXII WITHIN THE LINES 305

Iâm rich. Ninety thousand pounds Iâve made. To be caught like a rat! He must nât surrender the post.â And
muttering to himself, the miserable man shambled away, to repeat the same hopes and expostulations to the
next one he found.

âHe had another fit last night,â remarked the squire; âand no one has seen him eat or sleep in four days, nor
can he be persuaded to either, but goes wandering unceasingly about the town, quite unminding of shot and
shell. Ho! what âs here?â he ended, pointing up the street.

Three officers were coming towards them, arm in arm, the two outsiders in red coats, and the middle one in a
blue one, with buff facings. Occasionally as they advanced, he in the blue uniform swerved or stumbled
slightly, as if he might be wounded or drunk. But one look at his face was sufficient to show the cause, for
across his eyes was tied a broad white band.

âOh, dadda,â murmured Janice, suddenly paling, âât is Colonel Brereton they have captured!â

âNonsense, Jan! ât is impossible to know any man, so covered.â

The girl attempted no reassertion, and as the three officers marched up to the headquarters, the two hastily
rose from the steps.

âHa!â exclaimed one of the British officers. âHere stands Miss Meredith now, Colonel Brereton, as if to end
your doubting of my assurances of her being alive.â

The blindfolded man, with a quick motion, withdrew the hand passed through the arm of his guide and raised
it impulsively to the bandage.

âHold,â warningly said the British officer, as he caught the hand. âSmall wonder the handkerchief becomes
intolerable, with her to look at, but stay on it must till you are within doors.â

Jackâs hand clutched the officerâs arm. âGod! man, you are not deceiving me?â

âSpeak up, Miss Meredith, and convince the sceptic that General OâHara, though Irish, is yet a truth-teller on
occasion.â

âOh, Colonel Brereton,â said Janice, âI have just left Sir Frederick, who is at the point of death, and he gave
me a message of farewell to you. Can you not go to him for a moment? âT would be everything to him.â

Jack hesitated. âMy mission is so importantâGeneral OâHara, wilt deliver this letter with a proper explanation
to his Lordship, while I see this friend?â

âCertainly. If Miss Meredith will guide you and Lord Chewton to where he lies, Iâll see that Lord Cornwallis
gets the letter.â

In the briefest possible time Brereton stood beside Mobray. Yet when the officer in charge of him untied the
handkerchief and stepped back out of hearing, Jackâs eyes did not seek his friend, but turned instead to the
face of the girl standing beside him. For a moment they lingered in a gaze so steadfast, so devouring, that, try
as she would not to look at him, Janiceâs eyes were drawn to his, despite herself. With a long breath, as if
relieved of some dread, Jack finally turned away and knelt beside his friend. âFred, old comrade,â he said, as
he took his hand.

âCharlie!â gasped Mobray, weakly, as his eyes opened. âIs ât really you, or am I wandering?â

LXII WITHIN THE LINES 306

ââT is I, Fred, come into town with a flag.â

âYouâve beat old Britain, after all, have nât you?â

âNo, dear lad,â replied Jack, gently. ââT is the old spirit of England that has conquered, as it ever will, when
fighting for its rights against those who would rob it of them.â

âTrue. We forgot ât was our own whelps, grown strong, we sought to subjugate. And you had the better man
to lead you, Jack.â

âAy, and so we ever shall, so long as Britain makes men generals because they are kingâs bastards.â

âNay, Charlie, donât let the sore rankle through life. âT is not from whence you came that counts; ât is what
you are. Iâd take your shame of birth, if I could rid myself of mine. Fortune, position, and opportunity Iâve
wasted, while you have won rank and glory.â

âAnd now have not one thing to make life worth the while.â

âDonât say it, Charlie. Thereâs something for you to live for still. Put your hand into my shirtâyesâto the leftâ
now you have it.â

Brereton drew forth a miniature set with brilliants; and as his eyes lit upon it, he gave an exclamation of
surprise.

ââT is the one thing I concealed from my creditors,â moaned Sir Frederick, âand now I leave it to you. Watch
over and care for her for the sake of your love and of mine, Charlie.â

Brereton leaned down and kissed Mobray on the cheek, as he whispered, âI will.â

âIsâis Miss Meredith here, Charlie?â asked the dying baronet.

âYes, Sir Frederick,â replied Janice, with a choke.

âIâIâI fear I am a ghastly object,â he went on, âbut could you bring yourselfâAm I too horrible for one kiss of
farewell from you? Charlie will not grudge it to me.â

The girl knelt beside Brereton, and stooping tenderly kissed the dying man on the same spot that Jack had
kissed. Mobrayâs left hand feebly took hers, and, consciously or unconsciously, brought the one which still
held Jackâs to it. Holding the two hands within his own so that they touched, he said chokingly:â

âHeaven bless you, and try to forgive him. Good-by both. I have served my term, and at last am released from
the bigger jail.â A little shudder, a twitch, and he was dead.

For a minute the two remained kneeling, then Brereton said sadly:â

âHe was the only friend left me in the world, and I know not why he is taken and I am left.â He withdrew his
hand from contact with the girlâs, and rose. âI cannot stay, for my mission is not to be slighted, but I will
speak to O'Hara, and see that he gets a funeral befitting his rank.â Brereton squared his shoulders and raised
his voice, to say: âLord Chewton, I amââ

LXII WITHIN THE LINES 307

With a quick motion, the girl rose to her feet and said: âI have no right to detain you, Colonel Brereton,
butâbut I want you to know that neither dadda nor I knew the truth concerning Mrs. Loring when we said
what we did on that fatal night. We both thoughtâthoughtâYour confession to me that once you loved her, and
her looking too young to be your mother, led me into a misconception.â

âThen you forgive me?â he cried eagerly.

âFor the words you spoke then I do not even blame you, sir. But what was, can never be again.â

âAy,â said the officer, bitterly. âYou need not say it. You cannot scorn me more than I scorn myself.â

Not giving her time to reply, he crossed to where the officer with the bandage stood waiting him, and once
again was blindfolded, and led to headquarters.

âThis way,â directed General OâHara, leading him into a room where stood Cornwallis.

âAre you familiar, sir, with the contents of General Washingtonâs letter?â asked the earl.

âNo, my Lord; I was its bearer only because I begged the Marquis de Lafayette to secure me the service.â

âHe grants a suspension of hostilities for two hours from the delivery of this, for me to put my proposals in
writing. Did he say aught to you, sir, of the terms he would grant?â

âI am no longer on General Washingtonâs staffâ answered Brereton, âso I know not his expectations.â

âFrom all I hear of him,â said the general, âhe is not a man to use a triumph ungenerously. He fought bravely
under the British standards, and surely will not now seek to bring unnecessary shame on them.â Seating
himself at the table, he wrote a few lines, which he folded and sealed. âWill you not, use your influence with
him to grant us the customary honours, and spare the officers from the disgrace of giving up their side arms?â

âI no longer possess influence with or the confidence of his Excellency,â replied Brereton, gravely; âbut he is
a generous man, and I predict will not push his advantage merely for your humiliation.â

âWill he not forbear making our surrender a spectacle?â

âIf the talk of the camp be of value, my Lord, ât is said you are to be granted the exact terms you allowed to
General Lincoln at Savannah; and you yourself cannot but acknowledge the justice of such treatment.â

ââT was not I who dictated the terms of that surrender.â

âYour observation, my Lord, forces the reply that ât is a nation, not an individual, we are fighting.â

The proud face of the British general worked for a moment in the intensity of his emotion. âWe have no right
to complain that we receive measure for measure,â he said; âand yet sir, though the lex talionis may be
justified, it makes it none the less bitter.â

Colonel Brereton took the letter, his eyes were blindfolded again, and he was led back beyond the lines.

With the expiration of the two hours, the firing was not resumed; and all that day and the next flags were
passing and repassing between the lines, with the result that on the afternoon of the latter, commissioners met
at the Moore house and drew up the terms of capitulation, which were signed that evening.

LXII WITHIN THE LINES 308

At twelve oâclock on the 19th, the English colours were struck on the redoubts, and the American were
hoisted in their stead. Two hours later the armies of the allies took up position opposite each other on the level
ground outside the town, and the British troops, with shouldered arms, cased colours, and bands playing, as
stipulated, an English air, âThe World Turned Upside Down,â came marching out of their lines. As they
advanced, Washington turned to an officer behind him and ordered, âLet the word be passed that the troops
are not to cheer. They have fought too well for us to triumph over them.â In consequence not a sound came
from the American ranks as the British regiments marched up and with tears in many a brave manâs eyes
grounded their arms and colours. But the officers, through Washingtonâs generosity, were allowed to retain
their swords, sparing Cornwallis the mortification of having to be present in person; and it was General
OâHara who spoke the formal words of surrender, and who led the disarmed and flagless regiments back into
the town, once the formalities had been completed. By nightfall twenty-four standards and over eight
thousand prisoners were in the possession of the allied forces.

But one had escaped them, for in a cellar, hidden behind a heap of refuse and boxes, his body already stripped
of its clothes by pilfering negroes, his face horribly distorted, and with froth yet on his lips, lay the
commissary, dead.

And at the very moment the next day that two companies, one of British Fusileers, and one of New Jersey
Continentals, were firing a volley over a new-made grave, in which, wrapped in the flag of his country, and
buried with every military honor, had been deposited the body of him who had been Sir Frederick Mobray, a
fatigue party were rolling into a trench, and carelessly covering with earth from the battered redoubts, along
with the bodies of negroes and horses, and of barrels of spoiled pork and beef, the naked corpse of him who
had been John Ombrey, Baron Clowes.

LXIII
ON BRUNSWICK GREEN
On a pleasant June afternoon in the year 1782, the loungers about the Continental Tavern in the village of
Brunswick were discussing the recent proclamations of the governor and commander-in-chief forbidding
illicit trading with New York, both of which called forth general condemnation, well voiced by Bagby, when
he remarked:â

âA man with half an eye can see what they are working for, and that their objections to our supplying the
Yorkers is only a blind. What they really wants is that we patriots, who donât spend our days idling about in
camp all winter at Rocky-Hill and now at Middle-Brook, doing nothing except eat the peopleâs food, and
spend the peopleâs money, but who earn a living by hard work, shaâ nât have no market but the continental
commissaries, and so will have to take whatever they allow to offer us for our crops.â

ââT aint the proclamations ez duz the rale injoory,â asserted Squire Hennion; âfer printed orders duz nât hurt
nobody, but when the ginâral sends a hull brigade of sogers ter pervent us sellinâ our craps then I consarned ef
it aint tyranny ez every freeman is baound ter resist, jest ez we did in â65 anâ â74.â

Bagby, with a sour look at Hennion, said: âThat âs one of the biggest grievances, but not the way some
pretended friends of the people would have us think. What do your fellows say to officers having been fixed,
so that pickets are only put where theyâll stop us from sending boats to New York, while there âs one right
here is allowed to send cargoes just when he likes?â

âDoes yer mean that, Joe?â demanded a farmer.

LXIII ON BRUNSWICK GREEN 309

âThat I does,â asserted Bagby, looking meaningly at Hennion. âI was told as a chance was given to the army
to catch the man deepest in the businessâand in worseâred handed. But what âs done? Instead of laying a trap,
and catching him, they donât stir a finger, but wait ten months and then sends the very officer who did nât do
nothing to put a stop to it. For weeks that high cock-a-lorum Brereton âs been smelling about this town, and
lining the river at night with his pickets, when all the time he could have come here any afternoon, and
arrested the traitor.â

âThet âeres lucky fer yer,â snarled Hennion viciously. âyer ainât the only one ez kin tell tales, I warns yer.â

âI have nât done no bribing, and it was nât me as the information was lodged against,â retorted Joe,
rancourously.

âYou canât mean as General Brereton âs winking at the trade, when scarce a boat âs got out of the river since
his brigade camped there,â demanded one of the loungers, indicating with his thumb Brunswick Green,
whitened by rows of tents.

âI mean as Brereton could lay hands any time he pleased on one traitor, and why he has nât done so is what I
want to know. What âs more, Iâd like to know, why Washington does nât take any notice of the charges that
Iâve been told was preferred against Brereton nigh six months ago for this very matter. I tell you, fellows, that
money âs being used, and that some of those who hold themselves highest, is taking it.â

âDonât seem like his Excellency âud do anythinâ ez sneaky ez that,â observed the publican, glancing upwards
with pride at his signboard, now restored to its former position. âFolks says heâs a ânation fine man.â

Iâm just sick of all this getting on the knees to a man,â grumbled Joseph, âjust because he went and captivated
Cornwallis. Washington is nât a bit better than some of us right here and it wonât be long before youâll find it
out.â

âHow do you make that, Joe?â

âIs nât he trying to bully Congress into paying the army, just as if he was king, as I suppose he hopes to be
some day. You wait till he gets his way, and I guess the tax collectors will make the people sing a different
tune about him. If Iâm elected to the Assembly this spring, I calculate to make some ears buzz and tingle a bit,
once the legislature meets. Iâll teach some of these swaggering military chapsâwho were nât nothing but
bond-servants once yet who some of you fellows is fools enough now to talk of sending to Congressâ that this
is a nation of freemen, and that now that the British is licked, we donât have no more use for them, andââ

âWaal, I declare, if thet donât favour Squire Meredith, anâ his darter,â interjected a farmer, suddenly, pointing
with his pipe to where an army waggon was approaching on the Princeton post-road.

âSwan, ef yer ainât right,â cried Hennion. âI did hope we wuz quit of them fer good anâ all.â

âWonder what the gal âs in black fer?â observed a lounger.

âMy nigger cook Sukey,â said the landlord, âtold me that Ginâral Brereton told her the ole lady wuz mortal
sick oâ the small-pox anâ that when he went aboard the pest-ship, she wuz so weak it did nât seem like she
could be moved, but he anâ the doctor got her safe ashore, anâ when he last hearn, âbout the first oâ the year,
she wuz gaininâ.â

The publican rose and went forward as the van stopped in front of his door. âGlad tew see yer, squire,â he
said, âanâ yer, too, Miss Janice. Seems most like ole times. Hope nuthin âs wrong with Miss Meredith?â

LXIII ON BRUNSWICK GREEN 310

The squire slowly and heavily got down from the box seat. âWe have her body in the waggon,â he said
wearily and sadly.

âI vum, but that âs too bad!â exclaimed the landlord, and, for want of words of comfort, he hesitatingly held
out his hand, but recollecting himself, he was drawing it back, when Mr. Meredith, forgetful of rank, caught
and squeezed it.

âShe never really rallied,â went on the squire, with tears in his eyes, âand though she lived on through the
winter, she did nât have the strength to mend. She died three weeks ago, and we have come back here to bury
her.â

âNaow yer anâ Miss Janice come right intew my place, an Iâll fix yer both ez comfortable ez I kin,â invited
the publican, warmly, once again forgetting himself so far as to pat Mr. Meredith on the back. Then as he
helped Janice down, he shouted, âAbram, mix a noggin oâ sling, from the bestest, anâ tell Sukey that sheâs
wanted right off, no matter what sheâs doinâ.â

The last direction was needless, for the slave, in some way informed of the arrival, had Janice in her arms ere
the landlord well completed his speech, and was carrying more than leading her into the hotel and up the stairs
to the room reserved for people of quality only, where she lifted her on to the bed and with her arms still
clasped about the girl wept over her, half in misery, and half in an almost savage joy, while repeating again
and again, âOh, my missy, my Missy Janice, my young missy, my pooty young missy, come back to ole
Sukey.â

âOh, Sukey,â sobbed Janice, âbut mommy is dead.â

âDoan young missy pine,â begged the slave. âDe Lord he know best, anâ he bring my chile, dat I dun take
care ob from de day he dun gib her, back to ole black Sukey.â

Meantime, the squire, after a question as to where the coffin could be temporarily placed, and a direction to
the driver of the wagon, asked the publican: âWe had word in Virginia that Greenwood was sold by the state;
is ât so?â

âYes, squire, it wuz auctioned last August anâ wuz bought by ole squire Hennion, anâ jes naow his
Excellency âs usinâ it fer headquarters, till the army moves northâard.â

A sadder look came on Mr. Meredithâs face. âThat âs worse news yet,â he grieved, with a shake of his head;
âbut perhaps heâll not carry his hatred into this.â He walked over to where the all-attentive loungers were
sitting, and going up to Hennion, said humbly: âWe were once friends, Hennion, and I trust that such ill
feeling as ye bear for me will not lead ye to refuse a request I have to make.â

âAnâ what âere is thet?â inquired Hennion, suspiciously.

ââT was Matildaâsâât was my wifeâs dying prayer that we should bring her back here, and lay her beside her
four babies, and to let her die happy I gave her my word it should be done. Yeâll not refuse me leave, Iâm
sure, man, to bury her in the private plot at Greenwood.â

âYer need nât expect ter fool me by no sich a story. I ainât goinâ ter let yer weaken my title by no sich a
trick!â

âFor shame!â cried Joseph, and a number of others echoed his words.

LXIII ON BRUNSWICK GREEN 311

âYelp away,â snarled Hennion, rising; âIfât ât wuz yer bull ez wuz ter be gored yer âd whine tâ other side of
yer teeth.â With which remark he shuffled away.

Not stopping to listen to the expressions of sympathy and disgust that the idlers began upon, Mr. Meredith
entered the public of the tavern.

âHere yer be, squire, jusâ mixed from my very bestest liquor, anâ itâll set yer right up,â declared the landlord,
offering him a pewter pot.

The squire made a motion of dissent, but seeing the publicanâs look of disappointment, he took the cup and
drained it. âYeâve not lost your skill, Simon,â he remarked kindly, as he returned it. âCanst tell me if ât is
possible for me to get a letter into New York quickly?â

ââT aint ez easy ez it wuz afore the soldiers come here fer they pervent the secret trade, but if yer apply tew
Ginâral Brereton, ez lodges with the paason, I calkerlate he kin send it in with a flag if he hez a mind tewâ

Mr. Meredith shook his head in discouragement. âIt seems as if all I ask must be begged of enemies.
However, ât is small grief, after what has passed. Wilt give me pen and ink, man?â

While he was writing, Bagby came into the public, and interrupted him.

âI did nât offer to shake hands, squire,â he said, âseeing as you were in trouble, and took up with other things,
but Iâm glad to see you and Miss Janice back, and there âs my hand to prove it.â

Mr. Meredith laid down his pen, and took the proffered handshake. âThank ye, Mr. Bagby,â he said, meekly.

âI would nât stop what youâre at now,â went on Joseph, sitting down at the table, âif I had nât something in
my mind as I think âll interest you big, and may make some things easier that you want.â

âWhatâs that?â

âIf I put you on to this, I guess youâll be so grateful that I donât need to make no terms beforehand. You âd
give me about what I asked, would nât you, if I can get you Greenwood back again?â

âHow could ye eâer do that?â

âIt âs this way. That general act was nât drawn very careful, and when old Hennion bid the place in, I looked
it over sharp, and I concluded there was a fighting chance to break the sale. You see, the act declares certain
persons traitors, and that their property is forfeited to the state. Now what we must do is to make out that
Greenwood was Mrs. Meredithâs and that as she was nât named in the act, of course the sale was nât valid and
is void.â

The squire wagged his head despondingly. âBy the colony law it became mine the moment she inherited it.â

âYou see if I canât make a case of it,â urged Bagby. âIâve come out a great hand at tieing the facts up in such
a snarl as no judge or jury can get them straight again, and this time the jury will be with us before we begin.
You see old Hennionâs been putting the screws on his tenants tight as he can twist them, and glad enough they
âd be if they could only have you again, âstead of him. The whole countryâs so down on him that Iâve been
planning to prevent his being re-elected to Assembly this spring. Now, you know, as well as I, what I would
like, and I guess you wonât be so set against it now, for Iâve got nigh to twenty thousand pounds specie, laid
out in all sorts of ventures, so even if we donât get Greenwood, Iâll be all the better match, but we wonât say

LXIII ON BRUNSWICK GREEN 312

nothing about all that till weâve seen what comes.â

âNay, Mr. Bagby, Iâll not gain your aid by a deceitful silence. I owe ye an apology for the way I treated your
overture before, but I must tell you that both my own, and my girlâs word is given to Major Hennion, and
soââ

âBut heâs been attainted, anâ âll never be able to come back here.

âAye, and we too expect to accept exile with him. When we left Williamsburg, we planned once we had
buried our dead, to go to New York, where the two will marry, and then I shall follow them to wherever his
regiment is ordered.â

âBut you donât need to go, now that General Brereton âs persuaded the governor to pardon you,â protested
Joseph, âand youââ

âWas it Brereton did that?â demanded Mr. Meredith.

âBetween you and me, squire, Iâd been at Livingston ever since you was sent away, and had about won him
over, when Brereton got back from Virginia and went to see him.â

âIâm glad to hear heâs willing to do me a kindness, for not once at Yorktown did he come nigh us, and so I
feared me he would refuse a favour I must shortly ask of him.â

âWhat âs that?â

âIâm writing to Phil Hennion, begging him to intercede with his father and get me permission to bury my wife
at Greenwood.â

âYou would nât need to do no asking if you âd only let me get the property back.â

âYou âre right, man, and if it does nothing more, weâll perhaps frighten him into yielding us that much.â

ââT will take time, you understand, squire, and it canât be done if you go to York or out of the country.â

âWeâll stay here as long as there âs nothing better to do.â

âThatâs the talk. And donât you wherrit about your lodgings, if you âre short of cash. Iâll fix it with Si, and
chance my getting paid somehow. Iâll see him right off, and fix it so you and Miss Janice has the best there
is.â He started to go; then asked, âI hopeâthere is nât any dangerâI supposeâsheâll keep, eh, squire?â

The husband winced. âYes,â he replied huskily. âThe Marquis de Lafayette, quite unasked, ordered the
commissaries to give us all we needed of a pipe of rum.â

âThat was mighty generous,â said Bagby, âfor I suppose he had to pay for it. Even a major-general, I take it,
canât draw no such a quantity gratis.â

âI writ him, asking that I might know the cost, but he answered that ât was nothing. âT is impossible to say
what we owe to him. âT was he, so Doctor Craik told me, who asked him to bring Mrs. Meredith off the
pest-ship, and ât was he who furnished us with the army-van in which weâve journeyed from Virginia. Had
we been kinsmen, he could not have been kinder.â

LXIII ON BRUNSWICK GREEN 313

âNow that only shows how a man tries to take credit for what he has nât had a finger in. Brereton, who, since
he was made a general and got so thick with the governor, has put on airs enough to kill a cat, told your
Sukey, as now is cook here, that ât was he went aboard the pest-ship with the doctor, and brought her off.â

ââT is the first Iâve heard of it,â averred Mr. Meredith, incredulously yet thoughtfully.

âI tell you that Brereton is a sly, sneaky fellow, as needs watching in more than one matter. Nigh ten months
ago I showed him how he could nab old Hennion, so that like as not heâd have gone to the gallows, but he did
nât stir a finger, durn him! Oh, here âs Si, now. Say, I want you to treat Mr. Meredith and Miss Janice real
handsome, and donât trouble them with no bills, but leave me to square it,â he said to the landlord, who had
come bustling in.

âLor, Joe, yer duz nât think I wuz goinâ tew make no charge fer this? Why, the squire lent me the money ez
started me, anâ I calkerlate he kin stay on here jusâ about ez long ez he elects tew.â Then the publican
laughed. âLike ez not there wonât be no supper tew-night, squire. That âere Sukey hez got yer gal tucked in
my best tester bed, anâ is crooninâ her tew sleep jesâ like she wuz a baby agâin. She most bit my head off
when I went in tew tell her supper-time wuz cominâ. âStonishinâ haow like white folks niggers kin feel
sometimes, ainât it?â

âI bought her when our first baby was coming, and she saw four born and buried, and nigh broke her heart
over each one in turn,â said the squire, huskily; âso when Janice came, ât was as if she was her own child.â He
rose, his letter completed, and with a word to explain his movements, walked across the green to the
parsonage, where his knock brought Peg to the door, and resulted in a series of wild greetings and
exclamations. At last, however, the old-time master was permitted to make known the object of his call, and
was ushered into a room where Brereton was sitting writing.

âMr. Meredith!â exclaimed Jack, starting to his feet. âHow are you allâthatâhow is Miss Meredith?â

âSheâs stood the grief andâI know not if ye have heard of Mrs. Meredithâs death?â

âYes; a friend in Virginia wrote me.â

âSheâs borne up under that and under the hard journey wonderfully, and has been braver and more cheerful, I
fear, than I myself. Iâve come to ye, General Brereton, to ask if ye could send a letter for me, under flag, to
New York?â

âCertainly, if ât is of a character that makes it allowable.â

âIâve not sealed it, that you might read it,â answered the squire, holding out his letter.

Brereton read it slowly, as if he was thinking between the words. âIt shall be sent in at once,â he promised, his
lips set as if to conceal some emotion. Then he asked, âYou write to Colonel Hennion as ifâare he andâyou
intend to give Miss Meredith to him?â

âYes.â

Jack wheeled and looked out of a window for an instant; without turning he said, âIs sheâdoes sheâshe is
willing?â

âAy, the lass has at last found she loves him, and is as ready now as I ever was.â

LXIII ON BRUNSWICK GREEN 314

Again Brereton was silent for a breathing space. âWhen will they wed?â he questioned finally.

âOnce we can get to York.â

âAnd that will be?â

âThe burial of Mrs. Meredith and other matters will keep us in Brunswick for an uncertain length of time.â

âAnd you will lodge where?â

âAt the tavern.â

ââT is no place for Miss Meredith.â

âBeggars cannot be choosers, sir.â

For a moment Brereton said nothing; then remarked as he faced about, âIf I can serve you in any other way,
Mr. Meredith, hesitate to ask nothing of me.â

âMy thanks to ye, general,â answered Mr. Meredith, gratefully. âI fear me I little merit courtesy at your
hands.â

ââT is a peace-making time,â replied Jack, âand weâll put the ill feeling away, as ât is to be hoped Great
Britain and our country will do, once the treaty is negotiated and ratified.â

ââT is no country I have,â rejoined the squire, sadly. âOne word, sir, and I will be gone. I was but just told that
ât was ye who got Mrs. Meredith off the pest-ship; and ifââ

Brereton held up his hand. ââT was the Marquis who gave the order, Mr. Meredith, and the Surgeon-General
who superintended the removal.â

âSo I was told at the time, but I feared that I might have been misinformed. None the less, general, I am your
present debtor;â with which words the squire bowed himself out.

Left alone, Brereton stood like a stone for some minutes ere he resumed his seat. He glanced down at the
sheet, on which was written:â

Brunswick, June 13th, 1782.

âSIR,âAfter three monthsâ test, I can assure your Excellency that it is possible to very
materially if not entirely check the illicit trade with New York, but only by the constant
employment of a considerable force of men in a service at once fatiguing to them and
irritating to the neighbourhood. I would therefore suggest, in place of these purely repressive
measures, that others which will at once bring to justice those most deeply concerned in the
trade, and terrify by example those who are only occasionally guilty, be employed, and
therefore beg to submit for your consideration the following plan of action.

Shoving the paper to one side, Brereton took a fresh sheet, and wrote a hurried letter, which, when sealed, he
addressed to âLady Washington, Headquarters at Greenwood Manor.â This done, he finished his official
letter, and going to the rows of tents on the green, he delivered the two into the hands of an officer, with an
order to ride with them at once.

LXIII ON BRUNSWICK GREEN 315

On the following day a coach drew up in front of the Continental Tavern, and with much dignity a negro in
livery alighted from the seat beside the driver.

âYou will deliber Lady Washingtonâs anâ my deferential complimenâs to Miss Janice Meredith; likewise dis
letter from his Excellency,â he said grandly to the tavern-keeper.

âWaal, of all airs fer a nigger!â snorted mine host. âDuz his Excellency run yer jobs fer yer ter hum? Guess
yer ainât so fat, be yer, that yer keant carry that inter the settinâ-room yerself.â

With a glance of outraged dignity that should have annihilated the publican, the man went across the hall, and
after a knock, entered.

âWhy, Billy!â exclaimed Janice, starting up from her chair, her arm outstretched.

The intense dignity melted away in a breath, and the darky chuckled and slapped himself with delight as he
took the hand. âDer, now!â he cried, âI dun assure her Ladyship dat Missy would remember Billy. Here am a
letter from his Excellency, Miss.â

Opening it, Janice read it out to her father:â

Headquarters, 14 June, 1782.

Dear Miss Janice,âIn writing this I but act as Mrs. Washingtonâs scribe, she having an
invincible dislike to the use of a pen. She hopes and begs that you will favour us with the
honour of your company for a time at Headquarters, and to this I would add my own
persuasions were I not sure that hers will count above mine. However, let me say that it will
be a personal gratification to me if you give us now the pleasure I have several times counted
upon in the past. Thinking to make more certain of your granting this request, and that you
may make the journey without discomfort, Mrs. Washington sends her coach.

I most sincerely regretted not seeing you at Yorktown, the more that Lord Cornwallis assured
me when he dined with me on the evening after the surrender, that he would secure your
presence at the banquet he tendered to the French and American officers; but I was still more
grieved when told the reason for your refusal to grace the occasion by your presence. The
sudden sickness of poor Mr. Custis, which compelled me to hasten away from York, and the
affecting circumstance of his untimely death threw Mrs. Washington and Mrs. Bassett, who
were both present, into such deep distress that I could not find it in my heart to leave Eltham,
once the funeral rites were performed. The Marquis has since assured me that nothing was
neglected which could be of comfort or service to your mother, and I trust that he speaks
informedly. I have just learned of your loss, and hasten to tender you both Mrs. Washingtonâs
and my own sympathy on this melancholy occasion.

Be assured that your company will truly gratify both me and the partner of all my Domestic
enjoyments, and that I am, my dear young lady, with every sentiment of respect and esteem,

Yr most obedt hble servt

Go Washington.

ââT is the very thing Iâd have for ye, Jan,â exclaimed the squire.

âOh, dadda, Iâll not leave you.â

LXIII ON BRUNSWICK GREEN 316

âThat ye shall, for Iâll be busy with this scheme of Bagbyâs, and the tavern is no place for ye, child, let alone
what yeâll be forever dwelling on if ye have no distraction.â

âAnâ his Excellency,â said the messenger, âdone tell me to say dat he done holds youâ parole ob honour, anâ
dat, if you doanâ come back with me in de coach, he done send de provost gyard to fotch youse under arrest.
What âs mo, Miss, dat big villin, Blueskin, will be powerful joyed to see youse again.â

LXIV
A SETTLING OF OLD SCORES
On a night of the most intense darkness a strange-looking craft was stealing slowly up the Raritan, quite as
much helped in its progress by the flood-tide as by the silent stroke of the oars, about which were wound
cloths where they rubbed against the thole-pins. The rowers knelt on the bottom of the boat, so that nothing
but their heads projected above the gunwale, which set low in the water, and to which were tied branches of
trees, concealing it so completely that at ten feet distance on any ordinarily clear night it would have been
difficult to know that it was not a drifting limb.

Lying at full length in the bottom of the boat were two men, one of whom from time to time moved
impatiently.

âWill we never get there?â he finally whispered.

âSlow work it is,â replied the other, in the lowest of voices, âbut it has to be done careful.â

âI understood you the river was open once more.â

âAy. We had word the regiments had been withdrawn, to go north with the main army; but this is only the
second night the boats have ventured in, and cautious weâve always had to be.â

The note of a crow came floating over the water, and at the sound the last speaker raised himself on his elbow
and deliberately began counting in a low voice. As he spoke the number âten,â once again came the discordant
âcaw, caw,â and instantly the counter opened his mouth and sent forth an admirable imitation of the cry of a
screech-owl. Counting once again to ten, he repeated the shriek, then listened.

In a moment the first splash of oars reached them.

âThis way,â softly called the man, and put out his hand to prevent a small boat colliding with the larger one.

âThought I heard a bird just now,â remarked the solitary occupant.

âIf you did, ât was a king bird.â

âI have nât much to-night,â announced the new arrival, as he handed a small packet into the boat. âIt contains
a paper from No. 2, giving the decisions of the last council of war, and the line of march they have adopted for
next week.â

The one in the larger boat pulled up a cleverly fitted board in the bottom of the boat, and taking out a letter,
slipped the just received parcel into the cavity and dropped the plank back into place. âThereâs a letter for
you,â he said, passing it to the new-comer. Without another word the stranger shoved off and in a moment
was lost in the darkness.

LXIV A SETTLING OF OLD SCORES 317

âWas nât that Joe Bagby?â questioned the manâs companion.

ââSh! We donât mention no names, if it can be avoided.â

âYou need not fear me. I am in the generalâs confidence, and know as well as you that No. 2 is Major-General
Parsons of the Connecticut line.â

âThat âs more than I knew,â muttered the boatman; âso you see, Colonel Hennion, ât is as well not to mention
names.â

In silence the boat drifted onward, save for an order presently given that the rowers turn in toward the left
bank.

âSeems like I hearn suthinâ,â suddenly came a voice out of the darkness.

ââT is only we, fishinâ for what âs to be caught!â said the boatman.

âNo danger of yer catchinâ nuthinâ here,â asserted the unseen speaker.

âPull into the pier, boys! We âre got your son aboard, Hennion.â

A low exclamation came from the man standing on the rude wharf that suddenly loomed into view. âYer duz
nât mean my Phil

âAy, dad,â answered the colonel, as he rose and climbed out of the boat; âât is me.â

âLordy me, if I ever expected ter see yer agâin, Phil,â cried the father, as he threw his arms about him. âThis
is a surprise ez duz my ole bones a heap of good. Naow say yerâve come ter tell me thet I may make yer peace
with the state, anâ yerâll come back ter Boxely fer good. Terrible lonesome Iâve bin, lad, all these years yer ye
bin off.â

âNay, dad, my heart âs too much in the service to ever let me get interested in turnips or cabbages again. What
Iâve come for is to make you yield to Mr. Meredithâs request, and if possible to get a word with Janice. Tell
me heâs mistaken, dad, in what he wrote. You never refusedââ

âLook here, Hennion,â growled the boatman, âwe canât waste all night while youââ

He was in turn interrupted by a sharp click, the spit of a port fire sounded, and instantly came a glare of red
light, which brought those on the pier into full view, and showed to them two boats full of soldiers on the
river, and another party of them rising from behind a fence a few rods away.

With a scream of terror, Squire Hennion started down the wharf, hoping to escape before the troops closed in.

âHalt!â commanded some one; and when the old man still ran, he ordered âFire.â

âBang!â went a musket on the word; but Hennion reached the end of the pier, and turned down the river bank.
âBang, bang,â went two more; and the runner staggered, then pitched forward on his face.

âI surrender,â announced Philemon, as the soldiers came crowding on to the wharf. âWhere is your
commander?â

LXIV A SETTLING OF OLD SCORES 318

âI am sorry to see you here, Hennion,â said Breretonâs voice. âYou are the last man I wanted to take prisoner
under such circumstances.â

âWilt let me go to my father?â steadily requested the British colonel. âI give my word not to escape.â

âLet him go free,â ordered Brereton; and together they walked down to the prostrate body, which an officer
had already turned on its face, so that he might search the pockets.

As the two came up, the squire opened his eyes. âTheyâve dun fer me, Phil,â he moaned. âYer ole dad âs gone
ter the well once too offen, anâ a durn fool he wuz ter go on, when he knowâd they wuz arter them ez wuz
consarned in it.â

As he spoke, the keel of one of the boats which had rowed in, grated on the river bottom. An officer, springing
ashore, joined the group, and saluting, reported: âGeneral Brereton, when you fired the light, it revealed, close
upon us, a small boat stealing up the river, in which we captured Mr. Bagby. He declares he was out fishing;
but he had no tackle, and the bowsman swears that as we approached he saw him put something into his
mouth and swallow it.â

âBring him here,â ordered the commander; and Bagby, his hands and feet tied, was more speedily than
politely spilled into the shallow water and dragged ashore.

âIâll pay you military fellows up!â he sputtered angrily. âAttacking and abusing citizens as is engaged in
lawful occupations. You wait till the Assembly meets. Hello! Well, Iâm durned, what âs happened to Squire
Hennion?â he ejaculated. âYou donât mean to say heâs got his deserts at last? Now, I guess you see what your
buying of Greenwood âs brought you. No man makes an enemy of Joe Bagby but lives to regret it.â

A look of intense malignity came on the dying manâs face, and pushing his son, who was kneeling beside
him, away, he raised himself with an effort on one elbow. âSo it wuz yer ez betrayed me, wuz it,â he cried,
âyer ez took yer share in it daown ter the time ez we split over Greenwood, anâ naow goes anâ plays the
sneak? Duz yer hearn that, Phil? Ef yer care fer me one bit, boy, bide yer chance anâ pay him aout fer what
heâs done terââ He beat the air wildly with his free arm, in a vain attempt to steady himself, and then once
more pitched forward on his face, the blood pouring from his mouth.

The sun had been up an hour when three companies of Continentals, guarding five prisoners, marched into
Brunswick, and at the word of command halted on the green. The sight was enough to draw most of the
villagers to doors or windows; but when the rumour spread like wild-fire that among those prisoners were
Joseph Bagby and Philemon Hennion, every inhabitant who could, promptly collected about the troops,
where, as the soldiers and officers paid no attention to their questions, they spent their time in surmises as to
what it meant, and in listening to the Honourable Josephâs threats and fulminations against the military
power.

Among those who thus gathered was Mr. Meredith; and the moment he appeared Colonel Hennion called to
Brereton, who was busily engaged in conferring with the officer in actual command of the half battalion.

âGeneral Brereton,â he requested, âmay I have a few words in private with Squire Meredith?â

âWithdraw your guards out of ear-shot, Captain Blaisdell,â ordered Brereton.

âWhy, Phil, this is a sad plight to find ye in,â said the squire, regretfully, as he held out his hand, forgetful that
the prisonerâs cords prevented his taking it.

LXIV A SETTLING OF OLD SCORES 319

ââT is worse than you think, squire,â answered Philemon, calmly; âI came but to see my father about your
wish, but, caught as I was, they will never believe it, and will doubtless hang me as a spy the moment a
court-martial has sat.â

âNay, lad, ât is not possible theyââ

ââT is what we should do in the same circumstances, so ât is not for me to complain. âT was not this,
however, of which I desired to speak. My father was killed this morning, and his death makes it possible for
me to end your difficulties. We had word in New York that the governor had pardoned you; isât so?â

"Ay."

âThen ât is all right, if we but act quick enough to complete it, ere I am sent to the gallows. Find a justice of
the peace without delay, and let him draw deeds from me toâ to Janice, of both Greenwood and Boxely, and
bring them to me to sign

âSurely, Phil, ât isââ protestingly began the squire.

âWaste not a moment,â importuned Philemon. âIf ât is delayed till I am convicted, the state may claim that
they were in escheat, but for these few hours I have a good title, and if ever they seek to invalidate the deeds,
set up the mortgages on Boxely that you hold, as the consideration.â

âButââ

âIn Godâs name, squire, donât lose the opportunity by delay! âT is best, whatever comes; for even if by the
most marvellous luck I can convince the court that I am no spy, and so go free, the moment the legislature
meets, they will vote a bill of forfeiture against me; so ât is the one means to save the property, whatever
comes.â

âYe have the sense of it, lad,â acceded Mr. Meredith, âand Iâll do as ye tell me, this instant. But Iâll do all
thatâs possible to save ye as well, and if ye but go free, ye shall be not a penny the worse off, that I swear to
ye.â

âAnd if not, ât is what I would do with the lands, were I dying a natural death, squire.â

âDonât lose hope, lad,â said the squire, his hand on Philâs shoulder. âOnce the parson has drawn the deeds,
Iâll see Washington himself; and weâll save ye yet.â Then he hurried away towards the parsonage.

During this dialogue other occurrences had been taking place, which very much interested yet mystified the
crowd of spectators. When the conference between the general and major had ended, Brereton walked to the
doctorâs house and entered it. The major meantime went over to the constable, and in response to something
he said, the town official took out his keys, and unlocked the stocks, a proceeding which set both soldiers and
townsfolk whispering curiously.

âFree the prisoner Bagbyâs hands and feet, Corporal Cox, and set him in,â commanded the major.

âWhat in the ânation is cominâ!â marvelled one of the observers. âOf all rum ways oâ treatinâ a suspect, this
âere is the rummiest.â

Another pause followed, save for a new outburst from Joe, concerning the kinds of vengeance he intended to
shortly inaugurate; but presently Brereton and the doctor came across the green, the latter carrying a bottle and

LXIV A SETTLING OF OLD SCORES 320

spoon in his hand.

âThis is the one,â said the general; and then, as the doctor stepped forward and poured the spoon full from the
bottle, he ordered, âOpen your mouth, Mr. Bagby.â

âThis is tyranny,â shrieked Joe, âand I wonât do no such thing.â He shut his mouth with a snap and set his
jaws rigidly.

âHold his head,â commanded Brereton; and the corporal took it firmly and bent it back so that the helpless
man looked skyward. âSnuff,â said Jack, and a second officer, pulling out a small box, stepped forward, and
placed a pinch in Bagbyâs nose.

âA-chew!â went Joe, and as his mouth flew open, the officer inserted the barrel of his pistol, so that when he
tried to close his jaws again they only bit on steel. Instantly the spoon was put to his lips, and the contents
emptied down his throat.

âHow long will it take?â the general asked.

âThe lobelia ought to act in about five minutes,â replied the doctor.

Silence ensued, as soldiers and crowd stared at the immovable Joseph, whose complexion slowly turned from
ruddy to white, and from white to greenish yellow, while into his eyes and mouth came a hang-dog look of
woebegone misery and sickness.

LXV
PEACE IN SIGHT
The occupants of Greenwood were still at breakfast that same morning, when word was brought to the
commander-in-chief that Mr. Meredith desired speech with him.

âSet another place, Billy, and bid him to come in,â ordered the hostess.

âIâll tell him, Lady Washington,â cried Janice, springing up, and after she had nearly throttled her father on
the porch, he was led in.

âMy thanks to ye, Lady Washington,â said the squire, once the introduction was made, âbut I have broken fast
already, and have merely come to intercede with his Excellency on a sad matter.â In the fewest possible words
he explained Philemonâs situation. âThe lad assures me that he came but to serve me, and with never a
thought of spying,â he ended. âI trust therefore that yeâll not hold him as one, however suspiciously it may
appear.â

âThe matter shall have careful consideration at my hands, Mr. Meredith,â replied Washington.

âAll the more, I trust, that ye are good enough to take an interest in my Jan, who is his promised bride.â

Both Washington and his wife turned to the girl, and the former said,â

âWhat, Miss Janice, is this the way thou hast kept thy promise to me to save thy smiles and blushes for some
good Whig?â

LXV PEACE IN SIGHT 321

âJanice Meredith! you are the most ungrateful creature that ever I knew!â asserted Mrs. Washington, crossly.

The girl only looked down into her lap, without an attempt at reply, but her father took up the cudgels.

âNay!â he denied, âmany a favor we owe to Mr. Hennion, and now he has topped them all by signing deeds
within the hour that gives to the girl both Greenwood and Boxely.â

Janice looked up at her father. ââT is like him,â she said, chokingly. âOh, General Washington, will you not
be merciful to him?â

âWhat is done must depend wholly on General Brereton's report, Miss Janice,â answered Washington,
gravely.

âOh, not on him!â besought the girl. âHe has reason to dislike Major Hennion, and he is capable of such bitter
resentments.â

âHush, child, have you no eyes?â cried Mrs. Washington, and Janice faced about to find Brereton standing
behind her.

Not a feature of Jackâs face showed that he had heard her, as he saluted and began,â

âThe manoeuvre was executed last night, your Excellency, and I have the honour to hand you my report.â

Washington took the document and began an instant reading of it, while the new arrival turned to give and
receive a warm greeting with the hostess. âYouâll eat some breakfast, Jack,â she almost begged, with
affectionate hospitality.

âThank you, Lady Washington, IâIâsome other morning,â answered the officer.

An awkward silence fell, yet which no one attempted to break, as the commander-in-chief slowly conned each
page of the report. Once finished, he turned to the squire, and said, âI must ask, Mr. Meredith, that you go into
the parlour, where later I will see you. I have certain questions to put to General Brereton.â Mr. Meredith
gone, he asked,â

âWhat was the paper you recovered from this Bagby?â

ââT was a slip of tissue silk, which proves beyond doubt that he has been supplying the British with
information, though unluckily there is nothing to show from whom in our army he received his information.â

ââT is unfortunate, for we have long known that a leak existed in our very councils. However, ât is something
gained to have broken the channel of communication, and to have brought one traitor to the gallows. You will
deliver the prisoners into the hands of the provost-marshal, sir, and be at headquarters at two this afternoon,
prepared to give your testimony and papers to the court I shall order.â

Brereton saluted, and made a movement of departure, but Washington spoke again,â

âIn this report, sir, you speak of having taken Lieutenant Colonel Hennion a prisoner of war. Under the
circumstances in which he was captured ât is a strange definition to give to his footing.â

Jackâs bronzed face reddened slightly. âI so stated it, your Excellency, because I overheard the colonel tell his
father that he had but stolen within our lines to do Mr. Meredith a service, and having myself read the letter

LXV PEACE IN SIGHT 322

that induced him to take the risk, I had every reason to believe that he spoke nothing but the truth. Yet I knew
that no court-martial would take such a view, and so gave him that quality in my report, to save him from a
fate he does not merit.â

âOnce, sir, you were guilty of a deceit,â said Washington, sternly, âand the present conditions are enough
similar to make me suspicious. Are you certain that the fact that Miss Meredithâs happiness is concerned in
this officerâs fate, has had nothing to do with the quality you have given to his status?â

Despite the tan, General Breretonâs cheeks paled. âMy God, your Excellency!â he burst out. âIt has been one
long struggle from the moment I found him my prisoner, until my report was safe in your hands not toânot to
send him to the gallows, as I could by mere silence so easily have done. That I reported so promptly was due
to the fact that I dared not delay, lest the temptation should become too strong.â

Washingtonâs eye had never left Brereton during his outbreak, and at the end he said: âYou will remain at
headquarters, and report to me again, sir, in half an hour, after I have duly considered the facts.â

Making no reply, Jack saluted, and passed out of the room. As he reached the doorway, Janice, who had risen,
said:

âI pray you, General Brereton, to forgive me the grave wrong I have just done you in both thought and
speech.â

Silently Jack bowed, and closed the door.

âI should think thee âd be well ashamed of thyself; miss,â declared Mrs. Washington, fretfully.

âI am, Lady Washington,â replied the girl, humbly, âbut believe me, that wrong as I was in this instance, I am
not so wholly to blame as I seem, for one example of General Breretonâs temper which he gave me, proves
that he can carry his resentment to all lengths, andââ

âAnd is it because the man has a temper that you have slighted his suit?â interrupted the matron, peevishly.
âChild, child, donât you know that every man that is worth his salt has a warm constitution? Why, the tales
and warnings that were brought to me of the generalâs choleric nature when he was wooing me were enough
to fright any woman. And true they were, for once roused, his wrath is terrible. Yet to me he has ever been the
kindest and most amiable of husbands.â

Washington smiled, as he said, âMiss Janice will know who deserves the credit for that. But my wife is right.
A man is not apt to vent his wrath on the woman he loves, unless she gives him extreme cause.â

âBitter cause we gave to General Brereton, I own, butâ but I can never think that had he truly loved me he
would have refused his aid in our extremity.â

âRefused thee aid!â snapped Jackâs partisan. âHas he done anything but help thee in every way he could?
Who was it brought thy poor mother off that dreadful ship? Who was it has teased General Lafayette with
such unending favours for thee, that the marquis asked me what was the source of General Breretonâs interest
in one Mr. Meredith? Who only last week wrote me a letter that would have melted a stoneâanything, I
believe, but thy heartâbegging me to offer thee a home, that thou mightâst escape the tavern discomfort and
crowd? I declare, thy ingratitude nigh makes me regret my having wasted any liking upon thee.â

âOh, Lady Washington,â cried Janice, ânot a one of these did I know of; and if you but knew what gladness it
brings me to learn that, once he knew we had insulted him unwittingly, he forgave us, and put his resentment

LXV PEACE IN SIGHT 323

away.â

âThen youâll reward him as he deserves?â delightedly exclaimed the match-maker.

âI am promised, Lady Washington,â replied the girl, gravely, âand were I not, I could never forget his once
cruelty

âWhat did he?â

âI cannot bear to tell, now he has, by his kindness, endeavoured to atone for it.â

âI make no doubt ât is more of his masked generosity. Never will I believe that loving you as I know he does,
he could be hard-hearted or cruel to you.â

ââT was notâât was worse than if his anger had fallen on me, Lady Washington. He refused to aid my father,
and but for his Excellencyâs untellable generosity andââ

Washington, who had been rereading the report, looked up, and interrupted: âDid General Brereton tell you
that it was my act, Miss Janice?â

âNo, your Excellency, ât was from Governor Livingston that we learned of the debt we owed to you, for
which no thanks can everââ

Once again Washington interrupted. âThere are no thanks due to me, Miss Janice,â he said, âfor, much as I
may have wished to service you, my public duties made it unwise. Your gratitude is wholly due to Brereton.â

âI do not understandâWhat do you mean?â exclaimed the girl. âHeâât was your letter, so the governor saidââ

ââT was my letter, but his act,â replied Washington; and in a few words explained. âGeneral Brereton
expected, and should have been court-martialled and shot for what he did,â he ended; âbut he had served me
faithfully, and so I refrained from making his misconduct public, and punished him no further than by
demanding his resignation from my staff. You lost me a good friend and servant, Miss Janice, but now, with
the war in effect ended, I scarce feel regret that his action, however blamable, spared you the loss of your
father.â

âNow, what do you say, miss?â inquired Mrs. Washington, triumphantly.

All the reply Janice made was to let her head fall forward on the table, as she burst into tears.

âThere, there, my child!â cried the matron, putting her arms about and raising the girl, so that the down bent
head might find a resting-place on her bosom. âI did not mean to pain thee.â

âOh, Lady Washington,â sobbed Janice, as she threw her arms about the dameâs neck, âIâI am so miserable,
anâ anâand so happy!â

Ten minutes later, Janice, with pale cheeks, but determined air, sought her father in the parlour, and going on
her knees at his feet, said,â

âI have that to tell, dadda, which I fear will anger and pain you greatly.â Then in a few words she repeated to
him what Washington had told her.

LXV PEACE IN SIGHT 324

âAnd why should that hurt me, lass? I own I treated the general somewhat scurvily, and that he has repaid it in
different kind, but ât will be no grief to apologise and thank him for what he did.â

ââT was not that of which I am apprehensive, but when I wrote to General Brereton, and besought his aid, I
promised that I would wed him if he would but save you, andâand, oh, dadda, please be not angry with me,
but IâI feel I must fulfil my pledge, if he asks it of me.â

âAnd how of your promiseâand mineâto Phil?â

âI came to you, ere seeking to see him, to explainââ

The squire shook his head doubtingly. âI canât lay blame on ye, Jan, since I owe my very life to what ye did.
Yet ât is bitter to me to break faith with Philemon.â

âI feel as guilty, dadda, but I think he will be generous, and give us back our promise, when I tell him all the
facts.â

âAnd ât is nigh as hard,â went on the father, âto think of letting ye wed General Brereton, though I do owe my
life to him.â

âAh, dadda, you will not punish him for the wrong his parents did him?â

ââT is not that, Jan, but because he is a rebel toââ

The girl gave a little laugh, as if a weight were taken from her thoughts, and she flung her arms about her
fatherâs neck and kissed him. âWhy, dadda,â she cried, with the old roguishness, âhow can he be a rebel, now
that theyâve won?â

The squire pulled a wry look. âLittle I dreamed Iâd ever break faith, or make friends of the enemies of my
king, but the times are disloyal, and I suppose one must go with them. If ye can persuade Phil to release us,
Jan, have your way.â

Again his daughter kissed him, but this time tenderly, with all the archness gone. âThank you, dadda, for
yielding,â she said, âfor ât would have been horrible to me had you not.â

The squire kissed her in return. âBetter one rebel in the family than two,â he responded with a laugh, which
suggested that whatever his compunctions, he knew at heart that the outcome was for the best, and was
already reconciled to it. âThou ârt too good a lass, Jan, to make into more of a rebel than this same Brereton
will no doubt make thee.â

âHeâll make no rebel of me to my darling dadda, that I promise,â asserted Janice, joyfully.

Mr. Meredith laughed still more heartily. âIâll rest content if ye donât declare independence of your old dad,
and allegiance to him, within one month of marriage, Jan.â

As he ended, came a knock on the door and an officer entered. âHis Excellency directs me to say, Miss
Meredith,â he announced, âthat the provost-marshal has orders to bring Colonel Hennion to you, whenever
you are ready to see him.â

âIâll see him now,â replied the girl.

LXV PEACE IN SIGHT 325

âPoor lad!â lamented the squire.

âOh, dadda, what can I say to him?â grieved Janice.

âI know not, lass,â replied the father, as he hastened to leave the room.

It was a hard interview the girl had with Colonel Hennion, but she went through with it bravely, telling all the
circumstances. ââT is not merely that I owe him the fulfilment of the promise I made him before that to you
was given, Phil,â Janice ended, âbut though I thought my love for him was dead, the moment I heard of how
he had risked life and station to spare me grief; IâIââ There she ceased speaking, but her eyes and cheeks told
eloquently what her tongue refused to put in words.

Philemon, with a sad face, took her hand. âIâll not make it the harder for you by protests or appeals, Janice,â
he said, âfor, however it may pain me, I wish to spare you.â

âOh, donât, please,â she sobbed. âIf youâif you would only blame me.â

âI canât do that,â he replied simply. âAndâand ât is as well, perhaps. General Washington just sent me word
that I am only to be treated as a prisoner of war, but even when I am exchanged I must henceforth be an exile,
with only my sword to depend upon; so it would have been no life for you.â

âOh, Phil, youâll take back Greenwood and Boxely, wonâtââ

âOnly to have them taken by the state? Keep them, as I would have you, Janice, and if ever I am invalided,
and the laws will let me, Iâll come back and ask you for Boxely, provided I can bear the thought ofâofâof a
life of rust. Till then God prosper you and good-by.â

For some time after Philemon left the room the girl wept, but by degrees the sobs ended, and she became
calmer. Yet, as the tears ceased, some other emotion replaced them, for thrice, as she sat musing, her cheeks
flushed without apparent reason, several times her brows wrinkled, as if some question were puzzling her; and
once she started forward impulsively, some action determined, only to sink back, as if lacking courage.
Suddenly she sprang to her feet, and, apparently afraid to give herself time for consideration, she ran, rather
than walked, into the garden. Here she picked a single blossom from a rose bush, and such sprays of
honeysuckle as she could find, and made them into a bunch. Kissing the flowers as if they were the dearest
thing in the world, she hurried out of the garden, and glanced about. Seeing a soldier on the road, she hailed
him and asked him whither he was going.

âNowhere in pertickerler, miss.â

âDost know where General Brereton is to be found?â she asked boldly, though blushing none the less for
some reason.

âI just seen him down ter Colonel Daytonâs quarters.â

âWilt favour me by taking him these flowers?â Janice requested, holding them out with one hand, while her
other tendered a Spanish milled dollar, her eyes dropped groundward, as if to hide something.

âCalkerlate I might; and whoâll I say sent âem?â

âIâsay nothing at allâbut just give him the bunch.â

LXV PEACE IN SIGHT 326

âDonât hardly worth seem carryinâ,â said the soldier, glancing at the flowers with open contempt, âanâ sartin
it ainât worth no sich money ter take âem.â Lest she would agree with him, however, he set off with celerity.
âLike as not heâll give me a reprimand fer troublinâ him with a galâs nonsense,â he soliliquised, as he walked.
âSwan ef I ainât most tempted ter throw âem in the ditch.â

Fortunately he did not commit the breach of faith, though there were distinct qualities of shame and apology
in his voice and manner, when he walked up to a group of officers sitting under a tree, and said to one of
them,â

âA gal gave me this, general, ter take ter you, anâ she would hev it, though I told her sheâd no business ter be
botherinâ yer with sich plumb foolishness.â

The flowers were snatched rather than taken from his hand. âWhere was she when she gave them to you?â
demanded Brereton.

âI seen her go back inter the garding over ter Headquarters House, sir.â

The general, without a word of explanation or apology to his fellow officers, started away almost at a run.
Halting suddenly after he had gone some fifty feet, he fumbled in his pocket, and pulling out three or four
coins, he tossed back a gold piece to the man; then hastened away.

âWaal!â ejaculated the soldier, as he stooped and picked it up. âA hard dollar from a gal was bad enough, but
I did nât expect ter see the general go clean crazy like that. A louis, as Iâm a livinâ sinner!

When Jack entered the hedge, one glance he took, and then strode to the garden seat. âI know you would not
torture me with false hopes, yet IâI dare not believe the message I would give the world to read in these,â he
said hoarsely.

The girl put her hand gently on his arm. âThey say, Jack,â she replied, her eyes upturned to his, âwhatever you
would wish they might.â

On the words, her loverâs arms were about her.

âThen they say that I am forgiven andââ

âOh, Jack,â cried Janice despairingly, âcan you ever forgive meââCan I ever atoneâever thank you for allââ

âHush, my sweet. Put the past, as I will, out of mind for ever.â

âI will, I willâbut, oh, Jack, I must tell you how I have sufferedâhow my heart nearly brokeâso that you may
know how happy I am!â

âOh, sweetheart,â cried Brereton, clasping her tightly. âDo you meanâcan the flowers truly say that you really
love me?â

âThey can, but never how much.â

âThen tell me yourself.â

âNo words can.â

LXV PEACE IN SIGHT 327

âAh, sweetheart, try,â besought Brereton.

âThen stoop and let me whisper it,â said the girl, and obediently Jack bent his head. But what she had to tell
was told by her lips upon his.

It was Billy Lee who finally interrupted them. âYouâll âscuse me, Genâl anâ Missy Janice,â he called,
apologetically, from the opening in the hedge, âbut Lady Washington dun send me to âsplain dat if she delay
de dinner any moâ dat Genâl Brereton suttinly be late at de cote-martial.â And as a second couple made a
hurried if reluctant exodus from paradise, he continued, âI dun tender youse my bestest felicitations, sah.
Golly! Wonât Missis Sukey and dat Blueskin dun be pleased.â

âShe will be when she and Peg are bought and safe back at Greenwood, Billy, as they soon will be,â predicted
Brereton.

In the dining room stood the commander-in-chief and Mrs. Washington, and as Jack and Janice entered it
through one of the windows, the latter caught the girl in her arms, and kissed her warmly.

âOh, Lady Washington,â cried the maiden, ecstatically, âhow can I ever thank you!â

âThat is my duty, Janice, not yours,â asserted Brereton, taking the matronâs hand and kissing it.

Janice, her eyes starry with happiness, crossed to General Washington. âOh, your Excellency,â she begged,
her hand on his arm, âthere is but one flaw in my gladness, and ât is that for my sake he lost your trust and
affection. Will youâ oh, wonât you forgive him, as he has me, and let my joy be perfect?â

Washington smiled indulgently into the winsome face, and turning to Brereton, held out his hand. âYou have
secured an able pleader,â he said, âand I cannot find it in my heart to give her nay at any such time. Indeed,â
he added, as Jack eagerly took the proffered peace-offering, âât is to be feared, my boy, that had she but made
her prayer to me instead of you, I should have found it difficult not to be equally faithless to my duty.â

Janice stooped and kissed the two hands as they clasped each other, then, as her father entered the room, she
sped to him, and throwing her arms about his neck, kissed him as well.

âMr. Meredith,â said Jack, tendering his hand a little doubtfully, âa bondservant of yours ran off while yet
there was four years of service due to you. He is ready now to fulfil the bond, nor will he complain if you
enforce the legal penalty of double time.â

ââT is lucky for me, general,â answered the squire, heartily, âthat ye acknowledge my claim, for I take it that,
my lass having sworn a new allegiance, I shall need a hold on you, if I am to retain any lien on her.â

âNay, Mr. Meredith,â said Washington, âyou need not fear that the new tie will efface the old one. We have
ended the mother countryâs rule of us, but ât is probable her children will never cease to feel affection for the
one who gave them being; and so you will find it with Miss Janice.â

THE END

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LXV PEACE IN SIGHT 328

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